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THE CHECKERED FLAG 








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THE 

CHECKERED FLAG 

BY 

JOHN MERSEREAU 



BOSTON 

SMALL, MAYNARD & COMPANY 
PUBLISHERS 





Copyright, 1924 

By STREET & SMITH CORPORATION 
New York 

Copyright, 1925 

By SMALL, MAYNARD & COMPANY 

(Incorporated) 





Printed in the United States of America 


THE MURRAY PRINTING COMPANY 
CAMBRIDGE, MASS. 

THE BOSTON EOOKBINDING COMPANY 
CAMBRIDGE, MASS. 

JUN13 ’25 ^ 

©ClA855535 r / 



C , ,‘V «ft / 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


\ 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


CHAPTER I 

From a commanding position beside one of the 
titanic multiple drill presses, Jack Reese kept a 
weather eye on all the complexity of ingenious ma¬ 
chinery and skilled man-power which formed that 
industrial marvel known, prosaically enough, as 
Corbin Motors’ Machine Shop. There was some¬ 
thing almost paternal at times in the roving, rest¬ 
less glance of his smiling blue eyes. For, in a 
sense, they were all his, these perfectly synchro¬ 
nized mechanical giants — at least in so far as his 
was the responsibility for the efficient functioning 
of the department. 

The young shop superintendent smiled with boy¬ 
ish satisfaction. Everything was going perfectly. 
It looked as if this might be a record month, even. 
And why not? He had the latest machinery, good 
men — the best in the world, he told himself. His 
low labor turnover had always been a source of 
amazement and envy to other department heads, 
and his crew were loyal to a man. 

He turned abruptly. An office messenger, wary 
of the grinding, roaring machinery, was calling to 
him from the doorway. 


3 


4 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


66 Mr. Kline would like to see you immediately 
in his office, Mr. Reese,” the boy repeated his 
message. “ At once,” he added, as if his superior 
had stressed that point. 

Reese nodded and hurried off to get his coat. 
But the satisfied smile had suddenly left his face. 
As General Manager of Corbin Motors, Barton 
Kline might be the czar of his little universe, he 
reflected; but since he had come west to assume 
the position six months before, Kline had cer¬ 
tainly shown a singular lack of tact for one so 
highly touted as an executive genius. He was 
autocratic and domineering, and already had 
clashed with Jack on several minor issues. And 
Reese, as he pulled on his worn tweed coat, had 
a premonition that this present summons — un¬ 
necessarily urgent, it seemed, for ordinary routine 
matters — omened an unpleasant interview of 
some sort. 

Not that the blond, rangy-built superintendent 
was particularly concerned about himself. But he 
foresaw in the manager’s continual petty interfer¬ 
ence in the various departments an influence that 
was hound to eventually demoralize the plant’s 
entire personnel. And Reese took a boundless 
pride in the unexampled success of the great enter¬ 
prise which he had helped in maturing from a 
weak and not particularly promising infancy. 

For nearly five years he had been superintendent 
of the machine shop. Before that he had been its 
foreman; and still earlier, a skilled mechanic. But 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


5 


always in the employ of old Joel Corbin. He had, 
in fact, practically grown up in the plant — and 
with it. As an apprentice, he had lived through 
those dubious first years before the Corbin had 
wedged out a place for itself as one of the foremost 
cars in the fifteen-hundred-dollar class in the 
country; when it was generally agreed in financial 
circles that Joel Corbin, despite his millions made 
in California oil and realty, was a fool to attempt 
to manufacture a popular-priced machine on the 
Pacific Coast. 

Yet in little over a decade the impossible had 
become a fact. The home ranch of Tres Arroyos, 
with its thousands of fertile acres overlooking the 
blue Pacific, had been metamorphosed into the 
thriving Southern California seaport of the same 
name by the magic touch of millions. Engineers 
laid a breakwater along a reef and blasted out a 
wide channel to a snug deep-water harbor in its 
lee. Experts designed the factory, a model of its 
kind. Comfortable workmen’s cottages with wide, 
tree-shaded yards sprang up by the hundreds. And 
with the opening of the Panama Canal, Corbin’s 
64 Folly ” leaped, overnight almost, into the most 
sensational money maker in the automotive in¬ 
dustry. 

And Jack Reese, hardly more than a gangly, 
big-framed boy at the time, had prospered along 
with his employer in those first hectic, money- 
mad years of the World War. His unusual abili¬ 
ties had been remarked by Corbin’s efficiency 


6 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


experts, and he went to a shop foreman’s job on his 
twenty-second birthday. 

But after six months of that, while the Four 
Horsemen rode rough-shod over Europe, he sud¬ 
denly resigned and enlisted in a French flying 
escadrille. Then, with several months of that and 
a year of agonizing inaction as instructor at a 
Texas flying field to mature him, he returned to 
Tres Arroyos — something of a hero despite his 
modest disclaimers — to find the post of shop 
superintendent awaiting him. Corbin happened 
to be one of those exceptional employers who 
64 remembered.” 

Such was the considerable record Reese had 
piled up for himself. But in his rapid rise, 
despite the knowledge that he had always 66 made 
good” as he progressed, he had never lost sight 
of the fact that he owed much to the kindly dis¬ 
posed old land baron who had taken an individual 
interest in him. Consequently, as he went to 
answer Kline’s summons, it was with a feeling of 
regret that Corbin had chosen for his chief execu¬ 
tive one so inimical to the plant’s welfare in 
general. 

He was treated to yet another example of this 
fact when he entered the manager’s palatial office. 
Kline, sitting at his mahogany desk ostensibly busy 
with some papers, answered Reese’s greeting with 
only a surly grunt, without so much as asking the 
younger man to be seated. Jack dropped into a 
chair, none the less, and waited with a half-smile 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


7 


of amusement for Kline to run through the fussy 
little ritual that prefaced every consultation with 
Corbin employees. 

A man of no little importance was Barton 
Kline, but, unfortunately, a vain one. At thirty- 
five years of age, he had plunged his way to one 
of the biggest executive positions in the country 
through sheer force of will, boundless ambition 
and energy, and a sort of catch-as-catch-can genius 
at finding the weak point in a business obstacle and 
smothering it forthwith. He was not a tall man, 
but thick-set and virile. His hair was of that inde¬ 
terminate color generally described as sandy; and 
he affected a close-cropped mustache which he 
tweaked nervously at times in a rather amusing 
and futile gesture. His face reflected power and 
that sort of heavy masculine attractiveness which 
captivates a certain type of woman. But the effect 
was marred by blinking, hazel eyes, prematurely 
creased at the corners, with heavy discolored 
pouches beneath. 

After an impressive clearing of his throat, he 
glanced up. 

64 Oh, yes — Reese,” he said, in a resonant, con¬ 
descending voice, as if he had forced his mind from 
more important considerations. 44 Sorry to have 
kept you waiting, but I guess the shop won’t go 
to rack and ruin, entirely, because of your ab¬ 
sence, eh?” He laughed dryly, brushing an im¬ 
aginary mote from his immaculate serge, while 
his glance rested momentarily on a grease smudge 


8 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


on Jack’s rumpled Norfolk. 66 But I hope you’re 
getting caught up on the gears for the 6 four ’ 
again. You nearly ran us high and dry last week, 
remember, because of your shortage there,” he 
warned. 66 Mr. Corbin was quite put out when 
he heard about it — quite put out.” 

Reese pulled forward in his seat. 

66 My department is operating at top speed — as 
always, Mr. Kline,” he said crisply. 66 We antici¬ 
pate a record month. As for that shortage you 
speak of, I’ve already explained to you that I made 
the requisition for the blanks in plenty of time. 
And I’ll be glad to show Mr. Corbin the record 
sheets if he’s inclined to blame me in any way.” 

64 No, no! that won’t be necessary at all, Reese.” 
Kline quickly raised a deprecatory hand. 46 Mr. 
Corbin understands the facts — I’ve explained all 
that to him. And I only mentioned it imperson¬ 
ally.” He shifted his glance. 44 What I wish to 
discuss with you now is entirely another matter, 
a matter of business ethics so to speak — ” 

44 Business ethics?” Reese filled in the pause, 
puzzled. 

44 Yes, exactly, Reese,” Kline shot out. 44 The 
question as to whether or not an employee of the 
Corbin plant has the moral right to conduct ex¬ 
periments in motor manufacture without placing 
the results, if of any importance, at the disposal of 
his employer. Perhaps ‘ethics’ was a poorly chosen 
word. ‘Loyalty’ might put it more simply.” 

44 You mean to infer that I am disloyal to the 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


9 


Corbin interests, do you?” Jack inquired quickly. 

Kline pinched at his mustache. 

66 You are experimenting with a new type of 
motor, I am informed,” was his equivocal reply. 
66 That is a fact, isn’t it?” 

66 It is.” 

66 And you are confiding the results to no one?” 

66 To no one but my partner in the work; that’s 
all perfectly true,” Reese nodded. 

66 Well, then — ” Kline shrugged and raised 
his bushy eyebrows. 44 What is one to infer from 
that?” 

64 Well, what do you infer from it, Mr. Kline?” 
Jack asked softly. 

44 1 infer nothing,” the manager stated. 44 1 will 
make my inferences after you have outlined the 
course you intend to pursue.” 

44 Then let me ask you a question first, Mr. 
Kline. Is my work here as shop superintendent 
satisfactory?” 

44 In the main — yes.” 

44 Then that seems to me to pretty well answer 
your question also. I give every moment of my 
working day to Corbin Motors. You say my work 
is satisfactory. That ends my obligations to the 
company, I think. If I choose to try to better my¬ 
self in my own leisure time, without detriment to 
my service here at the plant, that is my own affair. 
If I choose to experiment with a new type of motor 
— and that’s exactly what I’m doing, I’ll admit 
fairly — I can’t see of any conceivable claim you 


10 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


or Mr. Corbin have on it. I’m not employed in 
either the research or experimental department, so 
I’m justly entitled to whatever I produce.” Reese 
stood up, his shoulders squaring. 66 That’s the way 
I look at it. 

66 If my motor pans out the big success I believe 
it is destined to be, it will revolutionize the motor¬ 
making industry, Mr. Kline. The Corbin motor, 
good as it is, is only ten per cent efficient — and 
that goes for every motor on the market today. 
Their pistons travel twenty inches, on the basis of 
one explosion to every four strokes, to deliver five 
inches of push to the gross weight of the machine. 
I haven’t solved that yet; but I have been able so 
far to cut out over a hundred pounds of deadweight 
from a standard-sized motor by overcoming the 
necessity of water cooling. I’m working on an 
anti-friction bearing now that will be equally revo¬ 
lutionary — if successful.” 

Jack paused, smiling sheepishly as he realized 
how boastful his enthusiasm might sound. 66 1 
didn’t mean to go into the details, Mr. Kline, but 
that, in general, is what my partner and I are try¬ 
ing to do. And if we succeed, I’ll tell you plainly 
that we intend to keep whatever profit there may be 
from it to ourselves — all of it. You asked me for 
my position. There it is.” 

The manager’s eyes, bright and alert and cal¬ 
culating a moment before, now blinked inscrutably. 

46 And I suppose that when this wonderful con¬ 
traption of yours is perfected you will dispose of 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


11 


it to the highest bidder — for several millions, per¬ 
haps?” he suggested, with what seemed half a 
sneer. 

66 No.” Reese shook his head positively. 
66 The patents will not be for sale at any price.” 

“ Not for sale, eh?” Kline smiled his amuse¬ 
ment. 66 Why, Geneva Motors might give you a 
fortune for them to get ahead of the Corbin. They 
manufacture six different cars, you know, and 
they could afford to pay any price at all — if you 
happened to have something they wanted.” 

Jack cast a keen glance at his superior. Bar¬ 
ton Kline, he knew, had given up a promising 
future with the Geneva — the most powerful motor 
trust in America — to accept Joel Corbin’s offer to 
manage his interests. And Reese had more than 
once wondered, from an unguarded word or action 
now and then, if Kline’s breach with his previous 
employers was as complete as he took pains to 
assert. But now there was nothing in Kline’s 
half-smiling expression to suggest that he intended 
his remark about selling out to the rival corpora¬ 
tion to be taken seriously. And Jack’s sudden sus¬ 
picion was forgotten as quickly as it had come. 

66 No, the patents won’t be for sale,” he re¬ 
peated. 66 And, anyway, they couldn’t be applied 
practicably in their present form to a moderately 
priced car. So,” he grinned good-naturedly, 
66 you can rest assured that the Corbin won’t suffer 
from any competition with the Geneva rattletraps 
equipped with Reese-Dejeans motors.” 


12 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


44 Dejeans?” Kline echoed. 66 Is that the name 
of your partner in the — ah — venture, then?” 

46 Why, yes — ” 

44 What a strange coincidence,” Kline interposed 
blandly. 44 1 have been intending to have a talk 
with you about a certain man of that name, but 
I’d completely overlooked it until you called it to 
my mind just now.” He stepped to the door of the 
outer office and called to his secretary: 44 Massey, 
will you please get those Dejeans papers out of the 
file and bring them in to me?” 

He returned to his desk and dropped heavily into 
his chair. 

44 I’m glad we’ve come to understand each other 
about this motor proposition, Reese,” he resumed 
genially. 44 Of course, knowing your splendid 
record, I never doubted your loyalty to the plant. 
But I’m in the difficult position of having to assure 
myself on such ticklish points, whatever way the 
chips fall. However, I see now that the Corbin in¬ 
terests won’t be jeopardized in any way by your 
experiments; and I’m always glad to see a man try¬ 
ing to better himself.” He held out his hand. 
44 So all the luck in the world to you, Reese. I 
hope you make a billion!” 

A sudden wave of shame swept over the shop 
superintendent. After this wholehearted expres¬ 
sion of good will, he felt that he had misjudged 
Kline and wronged him with baseless suspicions. 
And the thought flashed over him, guiltily, that per¬ 
haps a mean personal jealousy — his own — lay 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


13 


at the bottom of all their past differences. Not that 
he envied the manager his superior position at all. 
It was something more intimate than that, some¬ 
thing impossible and unvoiced, but a subject for 
secret dreams none the less. In Tres Arroyos, as 
in practically all of the open-handed West, social 
lines were not too rigidly drawn; and Jack, well- 
read and personable and with the glamour of his 
war record about him, had found on his return 
from Overseas not the least of his pleasure in the 
close friendship of old Joel Corbin’s vivacious 
daughter, Rita. That is, until Barton Kline had 
arrived a half year before. Urbane, polished, 
and something of a man of the world, Kline had 
captured the girl’s interest from the start. And 
Jack wondered now if he had unconsciously per¬ 
mitted such an unworthy cause to embitter him 
against his superior. 

He shook Kline’s hand heartily, his thin lips 
parting in a friendly smile. 

44 Thanks,” he said impulsively. 64 I’m glad, 
too, Mr. Kline, that we — ” 

At this juncture, Kline’s tall, stoop-shouldered 
private secretary interrupted, bringing in the 
papers the manager had asked for. His narrow- 
set eyes, placed on either side of a hooked nose, 
darted a furtive, searching glance from Kline to the 
shop superintendent while proffering the papers. 

44 Here is all the data we have on Dejeans, sir,” 
he fawningly addressed the manager. 44 That is to 
say, I haven’t yet got the reports from all our 


14 THE CHECKERED FLAG 

sources of information. I mean, that is to say, 
that I — ” 

“That will be all for now, Massey.” Kline 
nodded brusquely toward the door, turning back 
to Reese when the soft-footed secretary had un¬ 
willingly retired. “I’m really indebted to Massey 
for this data on Dejeans,” he went on. “ As you 
know, we’re constantly on the watch to weed out 
undesirable characters in our employ — ” 

“ In our employ?” Jack repeated, alertly. 

“ Yes. This Marcel Dejeans seems to have 
slipped by our employment manager somehow and 
gotten into your department. And from what 
Massey has ferreted out about him, he’s certainly 
been fortunate to have gotten past the immigra¬ 
tion authorities, let alone to have had the nerve to 
worm his way into the plant by masquerading as an 
honest mechanic. I’m surprised that you didn’t 
run him to earth yourself, Reese. He’s been with 
us nearly a year now. He’s a bad egg, an ex-con¬ 
vict — a French Apache — with a record on the 
Paris Prefecture books that would make a Sing 
Sing incorrigible blush with shame — ” 

“ Just a minute, please,” Reese interrupted in¬ 
tensely. “ Marcel Dejeans is an ex-convict, you’re 
right, but he’s reformed. I’ll vouch for that.” 

“ Nonsense!” Kline scoffed. “ Once a thief, al¬ 
ways a thief!” 

64 You’re wrong, I tell you,” Jack burst out. 
“ Dejeans is absolutely on the level — a man all 
through. He was an Apache, yes, until the French 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


15 


Government had the foresight to turn his daring 
and courage to a good purpose. He’s a French 
Ace. Moreover, he received the Legion medal, 
first rank — Foch pinned it on him, himself — 
along with an unconditional pardon. And he was 
cited for bravery several times afterward. Be¬ 
fore the U. S. stepped into the mess, we flew 
wing to wing. He saved my life. Not only once, 
but several times. I persuaded him to come into 
the plant. He’s a mechanical genius and the best 
friend I have. And I’m proud to say so. Fur¬ 
thermore, he’s my partner in the motor experiments 
we spoke of. That’s how much confidence I have 
in Marcel Dejeans, ex-convict and Paris Apache 
if he is!” 

Kline drummed the fingers of one hand on his 
desk, and pinched nervously at his mustache with 
the other. 

46 I’m sorry for your sake, Reese,” he said 
coldly. 66 But as I told you before, my position 
calls for occasional unpleasant decisions. I have 
no choice in this case. The Corbin employees 
must be protected. Dejeans, if he is the skilled 
man you say he is, will have no trouble in getting 
work elsewhere. But his criminal record makes it 
impossible for us to keep him here. He will have 
to go at once -— tonight. That’s final!” 

Reese sprang from his chair. 

66 Very well,” he said hotly. 66 He goes — and 
I go with him! You can consider this a notifica¬ 
tion of my resignation, Mr. Kline — to take effect 


16 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


as soon as a suitable successor can be found. And 
the sooner, the better it will please me!” 

Barton Kline blinked his eyes rapidly to hide 
a quick gleam of satisfaction. 

66 As you wish, Reese. I think I can promise to 
relieve you by the end of the week. A good shop 
superintendent shouldn’t be hard to find,” he added 
maliciously, and bent down over a sheaf of papers 
to signify that the interview was at an end. 

And Reese, leaving, relieved his boyish anger by 
slamming behind him forever the portal of Cor¬ 
bin Motors’ sacred managerial sanctum. 


CHAPTER II 


But this feeling of flaming resentment and anger 
endured for only the barest moment. It was fol¬ 
lowed almost immediately by a sensation nearly 
approaching dismay. Poignantly, Reese realized 
what it would mean to him to leave the Corbin 
plant. He was part of it, he felt; he had watched 
it grow and develop to the great enterprise it was 
with something of the prideful emotion of a parent 
for a successful son. He had learned his trade 
there after finishing his school education. And 
who as well as he could keep the men so satisfied 
and enthusiastic and the shop machinery running 
so smoothly? 

He smiled wryly, recalling the old saw about at 
least two men being able to fit every pair of shoes. 
It was true, doubtless. Some toady such as 
Kline’s fawning secretary, Sam Massey, would 
probably be given charge of the shops, and pro¬ 
duction would be kept up to par in some fashion. 
Corbin Motors wouldn’t go to the wall simply be¬ 
cause one such insignificant cog as Jack Reese left 
its efficient mechanism. For the factory personnel, 
as well as the product it made, had been adapted 
for the quick replacement of interchangeable parts. 

With calmer thought, too, Jack was shrewd 
enough to see that he had played directly into 
Kline’s hand by quitting. The manager, discover- 
17 


18 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


ing the close friendship existing between him and 
the ex-Apache, had easily enough stacked the cards; 
and Jack had fallen into the trap quite as any other 
loyal-hearted man would have done. 

Jack shrugged as he reentered the din of the 
shop. He had taken the only course left open to 
him, and perhaps it was all for the best. It was 
evident enough that the manager wanted to get rid 
of him, and it was better to quit of his own free 
will than to be discharged on some trumped-up 
pretext or other. 

And aside from his attachment for the plant and 
the men in his department, Reese really felt little 
regret about quitting. Without being at all mis¬ 
erly, he had managed to save up three or four 
thousand dollars in the past five years. He had no 
debts or dependents. And with full time now 
available to apply to the completing of the Reese- 
Dejeans motor plans, another month or two should 
finish the task easily. Of course he would prob¬ 
ably have to borrow then to put through his patents 
and manufacture the first demonstration car. That 
would take more capital than he had. But old Joel 
Corbin was president of the Tres Arroyos Bank, 
and if the case was well put he would doubtless 
approve the application for a comparatively small 
loan. All in all, the future held little to worry 
about and much for pleasant anticipation. 

Armed with this philosophic outlook, Reese 
hunted up Marcel Dejeans. He found the little 
Frenchman utterly absorbed in the operation of his 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


19 


lathe. A light touch on the shoulder, however, and 
the ex-Apache spun round in a flash. His frail¬ 
looking shoulders crouched ever so slightly and 
his shrewd black eyes — absolutely fearless — 
held the cold, opaque sheen of polished obsidian. 

66 Well, well,” Jack grinned affectionately, 
66 what’s biting the 6 Crazy Ace ’ today? You look 
all heated up, Marcel.” 

A sudden warmth diffused Dejean’s sharp eyes. 
The tense muscles rippled into relaxation all over 
his slight, dynamic body. 

“ Parbleu, it ees Jacques, eh?” he replied, in a 
sharply accented, nasal voice. 66 Me, I thought it 
was again zose peeg, Massey — ” 

66 Massey was here while I was gone?” Jack 
asked. 

“ Oui. He came wiz ze gendarme to ask ze 
questions.” 

“And you answered them, I suppose — told 
them politely what they wanted to know?” Reese 
inquired, smiling inwardly. 

“ Sacre damn, yes!” Marcel grinned. 66 1 told 
zem to go to hell. And zey went queeck enough, 
too!” 

“ Good for you, Marcel. Perhaps that wasn’t 
quite tactful, but Massey has no business butting 
in on this department — at least, not until I’m 
through here.” 

“ Through?” Dejeans demanded. “ You are 
queeting, zen?” 

“ Something like that, Marcel. I had a little 


20 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


run-in with Kline over — ah — the hiring of help. 
And the upshot of it was that I handed in my resig¬ 
nation.” 

The little Frenchman spun around decisively and 
threw off the power on his lathe. 

44 Voilo! zen I am through, too,” he cried, with 
an expressive gesture of his tapering, sensitive 
fingers. 66 Me, I have nevair like’ zis boche, Kline. 
And maybe you gave him ze knockout when you 
queet, eh?” he asked, hopefully. 

64 No. I could hardly do that under the circum¬ 
stances. In fact, I agreed to stay on until he could 
find another man for the job — probably till the 
end of the week.” But in Dejeans’ prompt loy¬ 
alty, Reese saw a fortunate chance to get the ex- 
Apache out of the shop without actually telling 
him of his discharge and the relation his own resig¬ 
nation bore to it. 44 However,” he continued 
quickly, “probably it might be a good idea for you 
to turn in your time tonight, Marcel, and get our 
work room cleaned up. If you’re game, I’d like to 
put in full time on our experiments and plans from 
now on and finish them up with a bang. But you’d 
better finish out the day here anyhow. There are 
only a couple of hours more, and your place can’t 
be filled before morning.” 

Dejeans reluctantly geared in the lathe belt once 
more and resumed his work, while Reese went on 
through the department on one of his regular in¬ 
spections. Efficient to the last, the shop superin¬ 
tendent disliked seeing an idle bit of machinery. 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 21 

And that, particularly, had caused him to ask 
Dejeans to finish out the afternoon. 

However, had he seen Massey’s narrow face 
glance in the door while he was at the far end of 
the shop, he might have regretted this thrifty im¬ 
pulse. The ferret features of Kline’s secretary 
showed only an instant, while he pointed with 
marked satisfaction and anticipation toward the 
busy little Frenchman at his lathe. Then the door 
closed softly — a habit which not even the roaring 
machinery could nullify — and Massey was gone. 

Shortly thereafter Jack hurried back to that sec¬ 
tion of the shop, anxiety written large on his face. 
The machinery drowned all human sounds, but 
from a distance he could see that something was 
considerably amiss. Men were craning over and 
around their work to see, and two or three of 
the oilers were even hastening toward a point of 
convergence roughly at the spot where Dejeans’ 
lathe stood. 

On arriving, Jack found the little Apache 
squirming in the bear embrace of a hulking young 
giant, whose expensive cravat was sadly awry and 
whose strong but dissipated features bore more than 
one trace of Marcel’s grimy fist. 

“ What’s the idea, Corbin?” Reese demanded 
coldly. 64 If you’ve had trouble with any of my 
crew, why didn’t you come to me about it? Let 
this man go now — at once. We can thrash out 
your differences in my office without throwing the 
whole shop into a turmoil.” 


22 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


But young Gordon Corbin, silver-spoon son of 
an indulgent multi-millionaire father, had discov¬ 
ered some time before that it was much simpler to 
take hold than to let go! Desperately he clung 
to the dynamic Marcel while panting out an ex¬ 
planation. 

66 1 ordered your man to go out and pump up a 
flat tire on my car, and he insulted me. I — ah 
— cuffed at him for his impudence, and he lit into 
me like a pack of wildcats. I didn’t want to hurt 
him, naturally — ” 

66 It served you right,” Reese cut in sharply. 
44 I’ve asked you before, Corbin, not to interfere in 
my department. You have no right or authority 
to — ” 

46 Authority!” blustered young Corbin. 44 If 
that’s what you want, my man, Bart Kline gave 
me that. He even sent his secretary to point out 
this man for me. And I’ll see him about the affair, 
not you, if you’ll please now call off your damned 
Dago.” 

Marcel furiously redoubled his efforts to escape 
the pinioning arms. 

“ Par bleu! it ees too much!” he cried, with 
an appendix of lurid Montmartre curses. 44 First 
it ees 4 my man,’ and now 4 ze damn’ Dago!’ ” And 
with a quick lunge, he brought his knee up into the 
pit of Corbin’s stomach. 

The heir to millions relaxed his hold, and with a 
bellow of rage and pain swung his big fist back to 
strike the diminutive Frenchman. But the blow 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 23 

never fell. A steely grip fastened around the 
thick wrist and held it fast. 

46 None of that, Corbin!” Reese snapped. 
66 And you stand back, Marcel, do you hear!” 

But young Gordon Corbin was past the point of 
reason. He was used to having his own way, and 
Dejeans’ blow was painful enough to further arouse 
his uneven temper to an insane pitch. 

64 Damn you and your impertinent interference!” 
he shouted at the shop superintendent. 44 Let me 
go, or I’ll thrash you within an inch of your life!” 

Reese relaxed his hold, his own temper snapping 
under the abuse. His clenched fists swung ready 
at his sides. 

44 Get out of the shop immediately,” he said 
evenly, 44 or I’ll give you a chance to try to do 
just that!” 

But a quieting voice broke in upon the im¬ 
pending melee — a well-modulated, condescending 
voice, yet with a razor edge to it. 

44 So this is your idea of the proper function of 
a shop superintendent, is it, Reese?” Barton Kline 
interposed silkily. 44 Brawling! Yes, I already 
have the particulars from Massey,” he cut in over 
Jack’s attempted explanation. 44 And I’m really 
the one to blame, I’ll admit that. I had you 
slated for discharge along with your — ah — 
friend, Dejeans. But I thought I was doing you a 
favor by letting you hang on and quit of your own 
volition at the end of the week — to give you a bet¬ 
ter record when you go hunting for another job.” 


24 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


Reese’s hands opened and closed spasmodically 
as he fought for self-control. 

46 I’ll save you the trouble of further 4 favors,’ 
then, Kline,” he said evenly, at length. 44 I’ll 
leave tonight.” 

44 Very well,” the manager nodded formally. 
44 However, of course you understand that under the 
circumstances it will have to go down on your com¬ 
pany record as a discharge for insubordination 
and ungentlemanly conduct; and I won’t be able 
to give you the useful recommendation I had hoped 
to.” 

Reese smiled grimly. 

44 Thanks for your generosity, Kline, but I don’t 
intend to apply for a job with Geneva Motors — 
where I imagine your recommendation might have 
the most weight,” he said hotly, and turned on his 
heel. 

Kline covered his momentary confusion by 
launching an effusive apology to Corbin over the 
“distressing incident.” But he ridded himself of 
the dishevelled young rake at the first opportunity 
and hastened back to his office. There he held a 
brief interview with his secretary. 

44 Everything went splendidly — just as we 
planned it, Sam,” he told that unprepossessing in¬ 
dividual with marked satisfaction. 44 And you 
were right, we didn’t get rid of Reese a minute too 
soon. He smells a mouse, but lacks the proof to 
back up his hunch. Made a crack, in fact, about 
me being still connected with Geneva, right in front 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


25 


of young Corbin. But he’s a nitwit, and I passed it 
off all right, I think. I only regret that I couldn’t 
let Reese give the young snob the licking he needs. 
But now let’s get down to business. I’ve got to do 
some quick squaring before it’s too late. The old 
man rather likes Reese, I think.” 

64 You can bring Corbin around, Bart, if any¬ 
body can,” Massey complimented unctuously. 
44 And these Dejeans papers will help. I worked 
them over and left out as much about his war 
record as I dared. And with what happened to¬ 
day, Corbin will never bother to make an investiga¬ 
tion on his own hook.” 

Kline shoved the sheaf of papers back into his 
secretary’s hands with a gesture of impatience. 

44 There’s no use in risking that,” he said irri¬ 
tably. 44 If I work fast and watch my step, I can 
do a lot of good work here for our people before 
Corbin catches on. At the worst, Reese won’t ever 
come back here while I’m boss; and I want to have 
things framed to admit I was misinformed about 
Dejeans’ character if the old man presses me too 
hard for particulars. He’s a nosey old devil, you 
know. 

44 But what I have to do right now is to blarney 
Corbin out of ever passing favorably on Reese’s 
application for a loan to put over that motor of his. 
He’s bound to apply sooner or later, and it would 
be fatal for us if he got it. He’s no boaster, and he 
knows motors inside out. And I’ve wormed enough 
out of him lately to be convinced that he has the 


26 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


making of a big proposition. He won’t sell at any 
price and he’s a hard nut to crack, but we’ll tire him 
out somehow. Our people want that motor, so 
we’ll have to start stepping. Meanwhile, we’ll 
hang on here as long as we can and run old Corbin 
up against a few stiff snags.” 

66 But won’t Corbin get wise when he finds that 
Geneva has got wind of the improvements on the 
new six and gone him one better — at the same 
price?” Massey worried. 

Barton Kline chuckled thinly as he started for 
the door. 

66 1 have that all figured, Sam,” he said. 
66 You’re the crooked spy I hired in my innocence, 
and I found you out too late. If Corbin hollers, 
I’m going to fire you!” 


CHAPTER III 


The following morning Reese was early astir. 
He and Dejeans occupied adjoining bedrooms on 
the second floor of a cottage on the outskirts of 
Tres Arroyos; an excellent boarding place, inci¬ 
dentally, along with its special fitness as a spot for 
experimentation. At the rear, set in a grove of 
orange trees and overlooked by their bedroom win¬ 
dows, the partners had constructed their work¬ 
room. There they were religiously guarded from 
interruption by “Mother” McGuire, a widowed 
Irish woman who watched over the comfort of her 
two “lads” as if they had been her own. 

Reese splashed out of the cold shower with a 
whoop and shoved the cringing Dejeans under the 
spraying water. 

“ Wash your sins away, Marcel, and don’t forget 
your neck,” he grinned. “ Mother McGuire’ll give 
me the dickens again if I don’t have you cleaned up 
for breakfast. She told me last night that she’s 
going to scrub you herself if you don’t mend your 
ways.” 

“ It ees ze lie!” the little Frenchman averred 
stoutly. “ Me, I am so clean lak ze white lil-ee. 
Par bleu! I weel soon have ze scale’ lak zose feesh!” 

With good natured repartee, the two of them hur¬ 
ried through their breakfast, while portly Mrs. 
McGuire hovered at hand to forestall their every 
want. 


27 


28 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


“ You can get things started in the workroom, 
if you want, Marcel,” Jack suggested, as he shoved 
back his chair with a sigh of repletion. 66 I’ll have 
to go down to the plant first and clean my personal 
truck out of the office and draw our pay checks. 
Then I’m going to the bank to see Mr. Corbin about 
that loan we’ll need before long. He’s usually 
there about eleven, and I want to find out just 
where I stand with him. He isn’t the kind to let 
that little blow-up I had with his boy prejudice him 
against me. But it’s a sure thing that Kline will 
run to him with the whole story — and I know him 
well enough to be sure it won’t lose anything in 
the telling. Mr. Corbin has always been kind to 
me — mighty kind, and I don’t want him to think 
me ungrateful. Aside from that, though, I’ll feel 
easier when I’m sure that we’ll have clear sailing 
ahead in the matter of finances.” 

He stood up, with a parting smile for Mrs. Mc¬ 
Guire. 

“ Those were certainly fine hot cakes, Mother 
— just like Mammy Chloe makes in the advertise¬ 
ments.” 

66 Go ’long wid ye,” she flushed delightedly. 
“ ’Tis no cooks at all thim niggers are.” She 
paused, fastening an accusing glance on Dejeans, 
who was surreptitiously edging toward the door. 
“ Marcel! ’tis ashamed o’ yerself ye should be — ” 

66 Ze neck, it ees clean,” Marcel protested ab¬ 
jectly. 

66 Come here to me!” she ordered. 66 ’Tis only a 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 29 

button off yer shirt ye’re afther havin’, so rest 
aisy.” 

Dejeans submitted resignedly; and Jack, smiling 
broadly, went outside to crank up the cut-down 
flivver that served him, with only occasional tem¬ 
peramental sulking, as a means of transportation. 

Completing his business at the Corbin factory 
without running across Kline, Reese drove on to the 
Tres Arroyos Bank. That institution was also con¬ 
trolled by Corbin, but as much for his employees’ 
convenience and protection as for his own interests. 
By judicious encouragement of thrift and low- 
interest loans, the old land baron had completely 
eliminated the salary loan sharks who flourish in 
most industrial centers to the demoralization of 
the workman. And he was usually to be found 
there of a morning, as ready to give his time to 
the unraveling of the financial ills of the humblest 
roustabout as to the 66 big business ” that constantly 
besought his aid. 

Jack parked his machine along the busding 
thoroughfare outside and passed under the sand¬ 
stone entrance arch of the bank. As he started 
for the cashier’s desk to ask for Mr. Corbin, how¬ 
ever, he was halted from behind by a soft feminine 
voice calling hjs name. He swung around, sur¬ 
prised and not a little pleased, to find himself 
confronted by Joel Corbin’s only and worshiped 
daughter. 

Rita Corbin was, perhaps, the greatest remaining 
justification of her father’s tragic marriage. Her 


30 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


mother, an operatic star of international renown, 
had died suddenly in the girl’s infancy — unhap¬ 
pily estranged from her husband at the time 
through a vain attempt to conduct a career and a 
home simultaneously. To the son, Gordon, had 
gone her erratic, vain disposition and her fiery 
temper. But Rita had inherited at least a part 
of the matchless voice — a coloratura soprano — 
and her mother’s piquant beauty, along with Cor¬ 
bin’s depth of mind and steadiness, and his demo¬ 
cratic viewpoint. 

The girl was small and slender, with the willowy 
grace of a dancer. Her features were delicately 
molded, but overrun with a bloom of health that 
required none of the artificial “touching up” of 
cosmetics. A mass of wavy golden hair was im¬ 
prisoned rather too primly under a small street 
hat; but this was counteracted by the gay colors of 
the sport suit she wore. Her frank gray eyes met 
Reese’s admiring glance with an equally transpar¬ 
ent pleasure. There was nothing of the prude or 
snob to Joel Corbin’s daughter. 

66 Why, Jack Reese, I believe you were pur¬ 
posely trying to avoid me,” she accused, with a gay 
little trill of laughter. 44 I haven’t seen you in 
weeks and weeks.” 

64 It’s been a coon’s age, that’s a fact, Rita,” 
Jack responded. 44 But needs must work, you 
know, when the devil drives — if it’s permissible 
for me to twist up a little of my shaky Shake¬ 
speare.” 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


31 


“ I like that!” Rita bantered. “I’m going to tell 
Dad that you called him a driving devil.” 

“ No, no,” Reese protested. “ I didn’t mean 
him at all. And I’ll give up my dramatic educa¬ 
tion here and now if you insist on analyzing my 
poetic flights. Seriously, though, I’ve really been 
awfully busy.” 

“ Try some more Shakespeare, Jack,” Rita 
smiled. “ Even that’s better than your excuses. 
But I’ve got you cornered now, and you don’t 
escape until you promise to come up to the house 
to dinner next Wednesday night.” 

“ I’d really like to,” Reese said, uncertainly, 
“ but — well, to put it bluntly, I don’t think it’s 
advisable. You’ll get the particulars sooner or 
later, so I suppose it will be all right to tell you 
the reason. Mr. Kline and your brother and I 
quarreled yesterday — all three of us lost our 
heads, I guess — and it ended by my leaving the 
plant for good-” 

“ You quit?” Rita asked. 

“ By mutual consent — as they called it in that 
Potash and Perlmutter play we saw together,” 
Jack grinned. “ I quit, and Barton Kline made it 
unanimous by firing me.” 

“ I’m sorry. And Gordon was to blame, of 
course!” the girl guessed, with genuine concern. 
“ He’s terribly hot-headed; but he’s always 
ashamed of himself afterward. I’ll see that he 
apologizes if you’ll come; and I’ll speak my mind 
to Barton Kline, too-” 




32 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


“ I’d rather you wouldn’t, Rita — really. Kline 
and I dislike each other enough as it is. And, 
honestly, I’m too busy right now to accept your 
invitation, even if that isn’t a very tactful excuse. 
But,” he suggested eagerly, 66 if you’re willing, 
I’d like awfully to drive you out in the hills in 
my Rolls-Hard the first chance I get. The wild 
flowers will all be out in a couple of weeks now.” 

66 That’s a promise,” Rita accepted promptly. 
“ I’ll fix up a basket lunch, and we’ll make a day 
of it. And now I suppose I’ll have to leave you 
to your eternal business. You men are all alike.” 
And with a provocative smile of farewell, she was 
gone. 

Jack stared wistfully after her for a moment 
before going on to request an interview with her 
father. That last was granted to him quickly 
enough, and he was ushered into the president’s 
office after only a short wait. 

He found the millionaire manufacturer in ore of 
his characteristically informal attitudes. Com¬ 
fortably relaxed in a swivel chair, teeth clenched 
over the bit of an old brier pipe, Joel Corbin evi¬ 
denced none the less the strong personality he 
was: a man’s man, a fighter to the last ditch, but 
one who knew his strength well enough to be unas¬ 
suming about it. He was a man of about fifty-five, 
with penetrating, humorous eyes and the raw-boned, 
sturdy frame of his Yankee ancestors. 

66 Well, well, Reese, sit down,” he said, kindly. 
46 I’m glad you dropped in to see me. I’ve heard 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


33 


about your little tiff yesterday.” He silenced Jack’s 
interruption with a wave of the hand. 66 No, now, 
wait a minute. Let’s get down to brass tacks at 
the very beginning. First off, I want you to know, 
Reese, that the fuss you had with Gordon needn’t 
enter into the question at all. He was at fault, and 
he’ll probably apologize to you handsomely after 
he’s had time to cool off. He’s young and feels 
his oats a bit too much sometimes,” the father 
explained indulgently, 66 but at bottom he’s a good- 
hearted kid. 

“ Aside from that, Kline admitted that he mis¬ 
understood the situation when I pinned him down 
to facts this morning. And I’m sure you’ll find 
him willing enough to shake hands and call the 
whole thing quits. So there you are. Your job’s 
waiting for you whenever you’re ready to go back.” 

Jack was at a loss for a moment. He had ex¬ 
pected that Corbin would adjudge the question 
fairly, but this complete vindication rather took his 
breath away. Nor had he anticipated that Barton 
Kline would recant without a more stubborn re¬ 
sistance. Again he wondered if he might have 
misjudged the manager after all. 

But this thought had to be quickly pigeon-holed 
while he readjusted himself to the immediate 
problem. His old position was open to him. 
Should he take it or follow out the new and hazard¬ 
ous course he had outlined for himself? Should 
he and Dejeans return to the security of monthly 
pay checks or risk everything on the success or 


34 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


failure of the motor in which they had every con¬ 
fidence? His decision was ready when he replied 
after only a short consideration of the question. 

66 That’s certainly very kind of you, Mr. Corbin, 
and I’m more than grateful to you. But ”— Jack 
paused, before plunging on rapidly — 64 but now 
that I’ve finally whipped myself to the unpleasant 
business of leaving the plant, I think I’ll stand by 
my decision. I didn’t come to you in the first 
place to whine about my discharge. Regardless 
of the differences I’ve had with the manager, I 
would have had to resign in a few months — as 
much as I enjoyed the work. I’ve been experi¬ 
menting with a motor of my own, and it’s nearly 
ready to be manufactured. That’s what I came 
to see you about. I wanted to see if you would 
finance me in putting out a first demonstration car 
— a special-body 4 job ’ that will appeal to inves¬ 
tors. I need ten thousand dollars.” 

Joel Corbin settled lower in his chair and took 
a few rapid puffs at his pipe. 

44 Kline mentioned something about your motor 
this morning,” he said, 44 but from the way he spoke 
I surmised that it was just a sort of hobby with you. 
Nothing so serious as this. You’d be giving up a 
good place here with an excellent chance for pro¬ 
motion, you know, for something mighty risky. 
And there are lots of reliable motors on the market. 
Are you entirely sure that you’ve given the whole 
situation its proper values, Reese?” 

44 1 believe I have,” Jack answered, thoughtfully. 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


35 


“ I know there are dozens of first-class motors on 
the market, too. But, without boasting, I believe 
I have something quite a bit better.” 

“ But what will you do when you have this 
demonstration car finished?” Corbin probed keenly. 
66 Naturally, you can’t know what it costs to suc¬ 
cessfully launch a new machine on the market, even 
granting it’s a good one. It would take a small 
fortune for advertising alone; and the first returns 
are discouragingly slow in coming in. Moreover, 
the combined millions of practically the whole 
automotive business will be fighting you, directly 
or indirectly. Every man’s hand, so to speak, will 
be turned against you. You and your backers — 
if you’re fortunate enough to get them — will have 
to go it alone. And mighty tough sledding it will 
be, you can take my word for that. I know!” 

Corbin’s face hardened, as if he were reliving 
in his mind his own early struggles. 66 First and 
foremost, you’ll have the Geneva Corporation to 
buck. They’re powerful, merciless, and utterly 
unscrupulous. If you show that you have some¬ 
thing good, they’ll get it. Starting with an ordinary 
small capital — a million or two, suppose — I’d 
say you wouldn’t have a Chinaman’s chance of 
escaping them.” 

Reese winced. The million or two of which 
Corbin spoke so casually as 66 ordinary small capi¬ 
tal ” was considerably in excess of anything he 
had dreamed of beginning with. 

66 My car will sell itself to the limited class it 


36 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


will be designed for — something like the English 
Rolls-Royce,” he expostulated. 66 It will need very 
little advertising, and that in exclusive publica¬ 
tions with small space rates. I’ll sell only a 
minority of the stock — not to speculators, but to 
bona-fide investors who aren’t looking for Bonanza 
profits. And I’ll be protected from the Geneva 
Company and the like by the law.” 

46 Right there’s where your biggest mistake be¬ 
gins, Reese!” Corbin banged an emphatic fist 
on his desk-top. 46 If a company has the money 
the Geneva has backing its play, it’s practically 
outside the law. That’s not radical propaganda, 
but sound common sense. It’s been demonstrated 
time and again. And Geneva has the corps of 
clever business perverts to turn the trick. Your 
stock will be hammered down and raided. False 
rumors will be spread about your product and your 
credit. And if all else fails, they’ll ring in strong- 
arm methods on you. If you’re weak enough, 
they’ll squash you that way in the beginning.” 

The millionaire stood up and laid a kindly hand 
on Jack’s shoulder. 

44 1 don’t want to discourage you, Reese. Facts 
like these are hard to swallow, I know, especially 
for a young fellow like you. But I want you to 
look at the thing with open eyes. Frankly, you’re 
doomed to fizzle, regardless. Not that I haven’t 
confidence in you. On the contrary. But you’ll 
never be able to bump heads with big money and 
get away with it. And that’s what the automobile 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


37 


industry is today — big money. The biggest. 
I’d loan you money for almost anything else, but 
not for this impossible scheme. I’m sorry, but 
that’s business. And I hope I haven’t hurt your 
feelings by plain speaking.” 

“ You haven’t, Mr. Corbin,” Jack assured him, 
reaching for his hat. 66 And your warning will help 
me a lot.” 

“ What do you mean?” 

66 1 mean,” Reese replied quietly, 66 that I’m 
going to put over the Reese-Dejeans motor — or 
take a good licking trying to.” 

The old land baron eyed him speculatively for 
a moment. Then he held out his hand, with some¬ 
thing approaching admiration in his glance. 

“ Good luck, and put me down for the first car 
that goes on the market,” he chuckled. 66 And by 
Godfrey, Reese, if you put it across you won’t find 
old Joel Corbin too proud to take off his hat to a 
better man!” 


CHAPTER IV 


On returning home at lunch time, it took no 
second glance at his dejected person for Dejeans 
and Mother McGuire to discern that Reese’s quest 
had ended in failure. 

66 He turned ye down, the tight-fisted ould skin¬ 
flint!” the Irish woman hazarded. 66 ’Tis a dirty 
shame, no less. And him wid the money av a 
Rockafeller.” 

“ Business is business, and he was very kind 
about it,” Jack protested, but without much spirit. 
66 He even offered us our jobs back at the plant. 
But he couldn’t see our motor, Marcel, through a 
telescope that would show the gondolas on the 
canals of Mars. Practically told me that it was 
a hairbrained scheme, even if we had the goods. 
That in such a case the Geneva Company would 
sandbag us anyhow, so we might as well save our¬ 
selves a lot of wasted effort.” 

“ Sandbaggin’, is it!” Mother McGuire pro¬ 
claimed militantly. 66 Faith, then, I’ll kape a kittle 
o’ bilin’ wather on the range, an’ the first av ’em 
that comes snakin’ around here’ll git a drenchin’ 
they’ll remimber all their born days!” 

“ Parbleu! you weel keel some poor man wiz 
ze watair yet, Madame!” Marcel warned. 64 Me, 
it ’as made me so soft lak ze boil’ spud. My 
38 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


39 


friens, zey say, 6 Marcel, you look so white and 
seeck.’ And I tell zem, 4 It is only zat I am half 
starve’ by zose stingy Madame McGuire.’ ” 

44 Saints presarve us, ye’re as fat as Paddy’s pig, 
both o’ yez!” Madame McGuire flirted her apron 
complacently at her tormentor. 44 Now clear out, 
lads, whilst I stir up a bit lunch. Be off wid yez.” 

Once outside, Marcel’s grin changed to a look 
of deep concern. 

44 It ees not zat you are discourage’, Jacques my 
frien’?” he asked uncertainly. 44 You weel feenish 
le bon motair, ees it not?” 

Reese turned to his diminutive partner with a 
grim smile. 

44 In spite of hell and high water, Marcel! I’ve 
got to win out. Everything depends on it — every¬ 
thing! It’s a desperate gamble, but every fellow 
has to wade beyond his depth sometime, risk every¬ 
thing for the slim chance of winning the biggest 
thing that could come into his life-” 

44 Mam’zelle Corbin, eh?” Marcel guessed softly. 
44 It ees for her.” He shrugged eloquently. 44 For 
love, anyzing ees possible. And zose skeeny 
chance — pouf!—we weel make zem beeg lak la 
petite Madame McGuire. Sacre damn! me, I mus’ 
ween, too, for her. Zis fight, she ees to ze feenish!” 

44 To a finish,” Reese agreed, smiling at the little 
Frenchman’s admission of aspiration toward the 
hand of portly Mrs. McGuire. 44 And here’s hop¬ 
ing, Marcel, that Cupid takes a correspondence 
course in archery before you put him on the job. 



40 THE CHECKERED FLAG 

He’s been a poor shot, I’m afraid, in my particular 
case.” 

66 Maybe it ees zat Madame McGuire ees ze 
beeger target,” Marcel confided irrepressibly. 44 In 
ze moveeng peekshair— ob, la, la!—we have 
already hoi’ ze hand!” 

In the afternoon the partners began in earnest 
the final experiments that would, when completed, 
mean the perfection of the Reese-Dejeans motor. 
Marcel had the workshop in readiness, and this was 
completely enough equipped for their purposes. 
It contained a good-sized motor lathe, a small 
forge, and an oxy-acetylene furnace; and under one 
window in a good light was Jack’s drawing board. 
The designing fell to him for his share — with 
frequent advice from Dejeans; while the little 
Apache exercised all his skill and ingenuity in 
adapting these specifications, practically, to the 
motor that was slowly assembling in the center of 
the workroom. 

Actually, the partners were engaged in a race 
with time. Since Joel Corbin had refused them a 
loan, they could discover only one slender thread 
on which to pin the hope of gaining the money 
imperative to safeguard their discoveries through 
patenting and to manufacture a first demonstration 
car. The California racing season was drawing 
near. And it was to be ushered in at the new 
Capri Track, just south of San Francisco* with the 
annual classic known internationally as the Girard 
Cup Race. 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


41 


A slight enough hope this could hold out to the 
partners at best. The finest cars in the world would 
be entered as a matter of course — Peugots, Sun¬ 
beams, Mercedes, the cream of all Continental and 
American makes, along with the usual host of dark- 
horse 66 specials.” The most daring drivers, men 
of experience and superlative track craft, would 
pilot these flying, thundering annihilators of time 
and space. 

To the manufacturers of established standing, 
only the winning of a favorable place at the finish 
mattered. To the partners, this was incidental to 
the ten-thousand-dollar cash award going to the 
driver first hurtling past the checkered flag into 
the last lap and victory. A win, the ten thousand 
dollars which would supply their pressing need for 
capital — that was the chimera upon which they 
came to set their hearts and re-foundation their 
hopes! 

It had been Marcel’s idea in the beginning, and 
Jack had scoffed at it at first. But the Frenchman’s 
insistence and confidence finally brought Reese 
round to a more favorable attitude. If the Reese- 
Dejeans motor held the sturdy heart they were 
trying to build into it, if it could be finished in 
time, there was no reason apparent why it could 
not stand up under a speed of better than a hun¬ 
dred miles an hour. And Jack had confidence that 
he could hold the car 66 to the ground ” at what¬ 
ever pace it was capable of making! 

Such was the ambitious project which the part- 


42 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


ners outlined for themselves during the first week 
of work. The Reese-Dejeans Special, if completed 
in time, would compete in the inaugural event at 
the Capri Speedway for the Girard Cup and ten 
thousand dollars in gold. Reese would pilot the 
racer; Marcel was to ride as mechanician. A 
thousand dollars was apportioned from Jack’s 
dwindling bank account to buy a strong second¬ 
hand chassis in which to seat the motor, and other 
necessary equipment. And the partners, finally in 
accord on the scheme, plunged with renewed energy 
into the work of completing the motor. 

The first of the next week Jack heard of a 
machine in a Los Angeles automobile 66 bone- 
yard ” that would exactly fill their needs, and he 
took a day off to go south and look it over. He 
found it in no wise impressive in appearance, but 
his mechanic’s eye quickly discerned numerous 
latent possibilities in the 66 heap.” It was, in fact, 
an antedated racing car which had fallen into sorry 
disrepair when eighty miles an hour ceased to 
be a speed to conjure with. The rubber was thread¬ 
bare, the motor coughed asthmatically, and the 
66 slap-on ” coat of paint it had received, like an 
old maiden lady’s rouge, only served to accentu¬ 
ate its glaring deficiencies. But the frame and 
transmission, to which Reese gave particular atten¬ 
tion, were as sound as new. And after throwing 
up his hands a half-dozen times at Jack’s merciless 
dickering, the owner finally called him back to 
close the deal for three hundred dollars. 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


43 


“ You drive a hard bargain, young fellow,” he 
said, 66 but I need the mazum’. Three hundred 
takes it. But hold the brute down,” he advised. 
66 She goes like a bullet.” 

Jack grinned as he handed over the purchase 
price. 

46 If those two good lungs chug me home by 
midnight,” he laughed, 44 I’ll send you a card of 
thanks. And the first junkman who wants to 4 go 
like a bullet ’ can have the motor free, gratis and 
for nothing.” 

44 What the devil you want it for then if you 
know so damn’ much?” the other queried belliger¬ 
ently, while the fistful of crisp bills went plunging 
into a pants’ pocket. 

Jack stepped on the accelerator and started the 
old racer jerking and bucking down the drive. 

44 Oh,” he responded over his shoulder, 44 I’m 
thinking of making a roller coaster out of it. I 
live on a steep hill!” And with that he was on his 
way back to Tres Arroyos. 

Notwithstanding sundry stops to repair blow¬ 
outs, and one to adjust a shorted wire, Reese 
arrived home on scheduled time. Backfiring like a 
platoon of machine guns, the 44 bargain ” hic¬ 
coughed its way into Mother McGuire’s back yard 
shortly after midnight. Jack, grease-smeared and 
weary, but triumphant, clambered stiffly from the 
cockpit in time to assure the anxious Irishwoman 
that the Japanese were not attempting to invade 
California via the Tres Arroyos harbor. And she 


44 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


modestly retired her white-robed form within her 
bedroom window with the thoughtful mention that, 
as no enemy threatened, Jack might use the 66 biling 
wather ” on the kitchen range for tea making. 

The next two days Reese employed in fruitless 
wrestling with the elusive problem of developing 
the new frictionless type of bearing he wished to 
incorporate in the motor. It was the last major 
difficulty to overcome, but a solution of it had 
evaded him for weeks. However, the principle on 
which he was working was sound, he was convinced. 
And with frictionless bearings installed — with 
a consequent elimination of all possibility of 
burned-out bushings — the Reese-Dejeans could 
hardly fail to mark a new departure in motor 
safety and efficiency. 

In the late afternoon of the second day. Jack 
gave up as hopeless the experiment he had been 
working on since morning. It had looked promis¬ 
ing enough when the idea came to him, but, like 
many inspirations, it gave up the ghost when laid 
out on paper. Hours of wasted effort and tiring 
concentration were a part of the crumpled draught¬ 
ing sheet that Jack brushed wearily into a waste¬ 
basket. 

44 Where are those bearing drawings and alloy 
formulas I was working on yesterday, Marcel?” he 
asked. 44 1 guess I’ll have to go back and pick up 
that tack again. This last brilliant idea of mine is 
deader than a dodo.” 

Dejeans turned a perspiring face from the forge. 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


45 


“ Ze drawings? I have not seen zem.” 

“ You must have,” Jack said. “ They aren’t 
here. And I’m positive I left them partly tucked 
in under my board. Maybe you misplaced them 
when you cleaned up last night.” 

“ Me, I have not seen zem; I have not touch’ 
zem,” Marcel insisted. 66 And ze desk I have 
nevair clean’ at night. Theenk! Zis morning, 
were zey here when you opened up?” 

“ There’s where you’re cornered at last,” Reese 
accused. 66 You opened up. I remember dis¬ 
tinctly picking up the padlock where you dropped 
it on the ground after unlocking the shebang before 
breakfast. You’re lovesick, Marcel,” he laughed, 
“ that’s what’s the matter with you. But lend me 
a hand now and we’ll see where you hid them.” 

Marcel, however, with his hands half raised to 
high heaven as witness to his innocence, suddenly 
darted across the room and dropped to his knees 
beside a loose board in the flooring. With a sigh 
of relief he found and replaced the box containing 
the finished part of the motor plans in its snug 
hiding place beneath the planking. 

“ Sacre damn!” he ejaculated. 66 Me, I have 
zose fright of ze life!” 

Reese looked on in complete bewilderment. 

“ What’s the idea, Marcel?” he asked. “ Did 
you think you’d put them in the box by mistake?” 

Marcel gestured tragically. 

66 Zose papairs, you weel nevair see zem again, 
Jacques,” he prophesied. 66 Zey are gone. Las’ 


46 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


night, zose door it was shut wiz ze padlock. 
Madame McGuire weel tell you zat; she was wiz 
me when I snapped it shut. Zis morning it ees 
open. Me, I theenk, too, it ees you who has been 
here first. But, no! it ees not so. It ees that some 
one has been here in ze night-” 

66 You mean,” Jack demanded incredulously, 
46 that some one broke in during the night and 
stole whatever of our drawings he could lay his 
hands on?” 

Marcel nodded mutely. 

44 Impossible!” Reese scoffed. 44 Both our win¬ 
dows overlook the shop, and we’d have certainly 
heard any such noise as it would take to break 
open that lock. Besides, it isn’t even marred.” 

Dejeans silently took the open padlock in his 
hand and snapped it shut. Then, bunching his 
handkerchief behind the hinge, he dealt the lock 
a sharp blow with a pair of pliers. The sound was 
hardly audible, but the padlock clicked open in his 
palm. 

44 You win, Marcel,” Reese admitted grimly. 
44 But thank the Lord they didn’t get anything 
worth while for their trouble. Those plans 
were practically worthless as they stood. But 
we’ve had a close squeak, and it’ll be a good lesson 
to us. It was no common sneak thief, that’s evi¬ 
dent, for there’s nothing else missing. But he’ll 
try again, if he’s the sort we suspect. So I’ll rent 
a safe deposit box at the bank for the finished plans 
the first time I go down town; and we can take 



THE CHECKERED FLAG 


47 


turns sleeping in here to guard the motor. I think 
we can handle any rough stuff the Geneva outfit 
tries — if Mr. Corbin was right about them — 
without anything more than my old Colt to back us 
up, don’t you, Marcel?” 

The little Apache’s dark eyes glinted malevo¬ 
lently. 

46 Ze steel-—ze knife!” he exclaimed. “ Zere 
ees nozzing lak’ it in ze fight. It ees queeck; it ees 
sure. Pouf! it ees done. Me, I need only ze 
knife.” 

Reese shuddered, then smiled. 

“ One look at you brandishing a toadstabber 
would be enough to frighten any one to death, 
Marcel!” he laughed. “ But now let’s get back to 
work-” 

But Marcel had hurried off to the house. He 
returned shortly, bearing a small, oblong package. 
Without vouchsafing any explanation, he undid the 
wrapping. 

Muscles creeping in spite of himself, Jack bent 
down over his board. The package, he had seen, 
contained a short, thick-bladed and double-edged 
stiletto — the gruesome Apache cutting dagger. 
For a few minutes he heard the steady purr of 
whetting steel. After a time it stopped. A gentle 
sigh of satisfaction came to Jack’s ears. 

And whistling a gay Montmartre melody, Marcel 
Dejeans serenely took up where he had left it 
his interrupted work at the forge. 



CHAPTER V 


Until late into the night the partners continued 
their labors. And when Jack was finally ready 
to call it a day, it was with the sinking realiza¬ 
tion that the Girard race was another twenty-four 
hours nearer — without any compensating advance 
toward the completing of the motor. Not that the 
painstaking experiments just discarded as useless 
were entirely without value. For each of them, im¬ 
practicable though it had proved, narrowed down 
the field wherein success might be found. And 
Jack was gradually being won over to the con¬ 
viction that the problem of the non-friction bear¬ 
ing would be solved through some new process 
of molding rather than any particular change in 
the elements of the alloy material. 

Marcel took the first night’s turn at guard 
duty, sleeping in the workroom on the cot Mother 
McGuire had made up for him there. But no 
prowler disturbed his heavy slumbers; and the 
grim “steel” under the pillow was replaced by 
Jack’s blunt-nosed Colt when the bed was re¬ 
made in the morning. Nor did either of the 
partners anticipate when the exchange was made 
that both of their chosen weapons would be called 
into play before the quiet day was out. 

At shortly after noon, working feverishly, 
Reese suddenly sprang from his stool with a cry 
of elation. 

45 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


49 


46 By Jupiter! I’ve got it at last, I think, Mar¬ 
cel!” he shouted. 66 Simple as falling off a log, 
too. Look here.” 

Dejeans listened to the technical explanation 
with rapt attention. 

44 Sacre damn! it ees at last discovair’!” he ap¬ 
plauded. 66 It ees ze beeg head you have, Jacques 
— beeg, beeg!” 

44 1 hope not,” Reese smiled. 66 And let’s not 
count our chickens before they’re hatched. We’d 
better see what comes out of the mold first.” 

But the practical testing of the discovery pointed 
to its complete success. Instead of melting the 
metal and molding the molten fluid in the usual 
way, Jack’s idea was to powder the alloy first, put 
it into the mold in that form, and subject it to heat. 
And the theory proved its worth on Marcel’s first 
skillful test. When taken out of the furnace, the 
new Reese-Dejeans bearing showed a certain de¬ 
sirable porosity not present in bearings moulded 
in the standard manner; it was capable of absorb¬ 
ing a portion of its weight in lubricants. Moreover, 
Jack’s alloy had a lower melting point than steel 
and therefore became an integral part of the 
material. 

The little Apache was in a seventh heaven of 
delight. 

“Voila! it ees succeed’!” he exulted. “ Ze 
freektionless bearing, she weel make le bon mo- 
tair ir-r-resistible. She ees fool-proof; she weel 
nevair get ’ot. Parbleu! it ees bettair zan ze Peu- 


50 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


got. Jacques — my frien’ Jacques!” he shrilled, 
embracing his partner ecstatically, 66 Zose race — 
pouf! — it ees won. I have ze beeg hunch!” 

Reese, wheeling to escape Marcel’s arms, stood 
stock still of a sudden. Over the diminutive 
Frenchman’s shoulder, he got a full view of the 
open doorway — and what stood framed within 
it. Ferret eyes alight with curiosity and eagerly 
exploring the room, shoulders rounded down even 
more than usual because of the low entrance and 
his excessive height, Sam Massey stood on the 
doorstep taking in the scene! 

66 Hello, everybody!” he called out, with a hol¬ 
low effort at ease and heartiness. 64 I just was pass¬ 
ing and thought I’d drop in on you for a second. 
How’s every little thing, anyhow, Reese?” 

64 Well enough, Massey,” Jack assured him 
coldly. 44 How long have you been standing 
there?” 

44 Just came up the second you spotted me.” 
Kline’s secretary began edging his way inside, 
tentatively. 44 Quite a complete layout you have 
here. How’s the motor coming — ?” 

Jack blocked the way of further advance. 

44 You’re not welcome in here, Massey,” he said 
flatly. 44 My friends know better than to bother 
me when I’m working, and to put it plainly, I don’t 
count you among them. At the plant you went out 
of your way to be disagreeable whenever possible. 
So why glad-hand me now?” 

44 That was business,” Massey excused himself. 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 51 

66 That is to say, I was working for Kline, and I had 
to ride you or lose my job.” 

66 You’re not his secretary any more, then?” 
Reese queried. 

Massey shook his head angrily. 

46 He fired me yesterday, the big stiff! Told old 
man Corbin I sold out the secret of the improve¬ 
ments on the new six to the Geneva Company.” 
His small eyes narrowed resentfully. 64 But I’ll 
square accounts with him, don’t worry. Bart 
Kline or any other man can’t give me the bum’s 
rush without paying for it!” 

Reese studied the man intently. To all ap¬ 
pearances Massey was entirely in earnest. His 
manner was convincing. Yet there was something 
about his story, an intangible false note, that did 
not ring quite true. And it was obvious that 
Massey was lying about his casual visit. Mother 
McGuire’s cottage was isolated on the outskirts 
of Tres Arroyos — several blocks from any other 
and the last on its street. And Kline’s ex-secre¬ 
tary would hardly have walked the mile or more 
from the car line simply to renew an altogether 
dubious friendship. 

Jack determined to draw him out if possible. 

44 Well, it’s too bad you lost your job,” he said, 
more cordially. 44 But I suppose an experienced 
office man like you can always get another place 
easily enough.” 

44 I’ve got one ready and waiting any time I 
want to go back,” Massey informed him. 44 1 


52 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


came west with Kline, thinking he’d treat me white 
and take care of me with something soft. Instead, 
he treated me like a dog and made me do all his 
dirty work. I’m loyal — too damned loyal, that’s 
my big trouble — or I’d have quit him cold three 
months ago. But the Geneva people want me back, 
and I’m going — after I put a few twists in 
Kline’s tail he won’t forget in a hurry, believe 
me!” 

66 1 see. Going to get even, eh?” Jack mur¬ 
mured. 64 Can’t say I blame you, either, under 
the circumstances.” 

44 1 should think you wouldn’t,” Massey ex¬ 
ploded. 44 After the raw deal he handed you! 
That was a frame-up — him getting rid of you. 
And he runs you down every chance he gets. I’ve 
heard him pan you to old Corbin a dozen times. 
Downright lies, every one of them, too.” 

44 The contemptible cur!” Jack burst out, wink¬ 
ing furtively at Marcel. 

Massey lowered his voice persuasively. 

44 Now look here, Reese. We’re in the same 
boat, it looks to me. Why not pull together, then, 
and give Kline the big bump that’s coming to him?” 
Convincingly he went in detail over their mutual 
grievances. 

44 But what could we do?” Jack shrugged. 
44 Kline has the confidence of Mr. Corbin, so I 
don’t see where we could reach him.” 

44 Easy!” Massey exclaimed. 44 1 happen to 
know that Kline’s been buying Corbin stock short 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


53 


lately, figuring it’s hit low on this slump. We 
could pick him clean if we engineer it right. If 
Corbin Motors went down another ten points, 
Kline wouldn’t own the coat on his back. And 
you’re the man that could work it, by God! The 
whole shop would quit in a minute if you talked 
up a strike right.” 

66 But that might injure Mr. Corbin, too,” Jack 
demurred. 

66 What of it?” Massey countered. 44 He’s got 
money to burn. And I tell you, Reese, if you 
help me pull this stunt, I can put you in touch with 
people who would back this motor of yours only 
too quick — ” 

46 People?” 

46 Well, Geneva Motors, then. I’ve got an inside 
pull there yet, even if I did quit them. And if I 
said your motor was the goods, they’d take my 
word for it.” 

44 1 do need money, but my motor isn’t for sale,” 
Reese told him. 

44 Well, then,” Massey quickly dropped that 
point, 44 we’ll forget that angle of it. You need 
money. All right! You frame the strike, and I’ll 
make it worth your while. Aside from putting 
Kline in a bad hole. What do you say? Are you 
with me?” 

Jack’s contempt for the Geneva spy, restrained 
with difficulty until now, came boiling to the sur¬ 
face. 

44 Get out, Massey!” he snapped. 44 Get out, or 


54 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


I’ll forget what a miserable little pup you are and 
knock you down!” 

“ Now, listen here — ” Massey protested. But 
the sentence was cut short as Reese spun the cring¬ 
ing figure about facing the door and gave it out¬ 
bound momentum with a well-placed kick. 

Massey picked himself up from the ground be¬ 
yond the doorstep, his narrow face livid with rage. 

“I’ll get you for that, Reese, and get you right!” 
he promised, backing away. “ Your damned 
motor won’t be worth a plugged cent to you when 
I’m finished with you — ” 

Marcel appeared in the door, tenderly thumbing 
the edge of his stiletto. 

“ Peeg! shake ze leg!” he commanded, raising 
the knife to a throwing position. And Sam Massey, 
with a final minatory flourish of his bony fist, fled 
incontinently. 

“ Well, the cat’s out of the bag at last, Marcel,” 
Jack smiled grimly. “ It seems that Mr. Corbin 
was right in our case, even if he didn’t see in time 
that he was in the same boat. Geneva Motors is 
gunning for both our hides. And,” he added, mus¬ 
ingly, “I’ve got more of a notion than ever, some¬ 
how, that our friend Barton Kline is playing a 
two-handed game.” 

Shortly before dinner time, the partners knocked 
off work, well pleased with the day’s developments. 
Marcel performed his evening ablutions with un¬ 
usual care. 

“ Me, it ees zat I take Madame McGuire to ze 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


55 


moveeng peekshair,” he apologized to Reese. 
“ Maybe you loan me ze flivvair again, eh, 
Jacques?” 

66 Help yourself,” Jack offered. 66 Here’s the 
key. Only don’t go joy-riding afterward. I’ll be 
waiting up for you, remember.” 

46 No, no,” Marcel blushed. 66 Wiz ze joy ride 
zere ees nozzing doing. I have ask’ already. But, 
no; Madame ees mos’ particular.” 

When the cut-down finally labored away bear¬ 
ing the demure Mrs. McGuire and her diminutive 
escort, Jack went immediately to the workroom. 
He switched on the light above his drawing board, 
and dragged the cot over close to it. Then, 
making sure that all the more important draw¬ 
ings were safely stowed in their hiding place be¬ 
neath the floor, he lay down to read for an hour or 
so before going to bed. The work of the past week 
had been carried on under severe tension, and he 
felt the need of relaxation. 

But the magazine pages lost their savor after a 
time. His thoughts kept wandering off into other 
channels, and he tossed the magazine aside in dis¬ 
gust after he had lost the thread of the narrative 
repeatedly. He was lonesome, he realized acutely. 
He wanted companionship. Marcel and Mrs. Mc¬ 
Guire had the best hearts in the world, but they 
didn’t understand some things — well, as a girl like 
Rita Corbin would understand them, for instance. 

With a guilty start, Jack recalled his promise to 
Rita to take her out into the hills for a day. He 


56 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


wondered if she had forgotten as he had, if she 
had overlooked it in the press of invitations that 
came to her daily. He thought not. Rita wasn’t 
the kind to forget. Her friends meant more to her 
than to most girls similarly placed. He decided 
to call her up in the morning and arrange a 
definite date for the outing. With the new bear¬ 
ing perfected, there was at last time to spare for a 
breathing spell before plunging on into the easier 
work of constructing the Reese-Dejeans Special for 
the Girard Cup Race. 

Jack smiled to himself. Excuses came easy 
where a girl was concerned; and he knew that he 
particularly wanted to tell Rita about his success 
with the motor and the ambitious plans he had 
built upon it. Of course, he told himself, he 
would make no mention of the intimate part she 
played in his complete scheme of things. That 
dream — and he winced as he thought of it — 
would probably never come true. Rita would 
doubtless be married to Barton Kline or some other 
man of assured social and financial standing long 
before the Reese-Dejeans found an established 
place in the automobile industry. 

Jack’s musings were abruptly cut short by a 
knock on the door. Startled, he reached his hand 
under the pillow to assure himself that the Colt 
was there. He had heard no one approach; and, 
too, he was alone. 

66 Who is it?” he asked. 

A soft feminine voice answered. 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


57 


“ I’m having trouble with my car. It’s broken 
down just at the end of your drive, and I can’t 
seem to find what’s the matter. I knocked at the 
front door, but no one answered. So, as a last 
resort, I came out here. I saw the light.” The 
appealing voice was near to tears. 66 I’d appre¬ 
ciate it if you’d let me use your telephone and 
call up a garage. I — I’m alone.” 

Jack threw open the door. He found himself 
looking down into a doll-like face, whose dark 
eyes — rather splendid eyes, at that — were tear 
misted and lined with fatigue. 

66 I’m sorry I had to keep you waiting,” he 
apologized, 66 but I assure you that it wasn’t simply 
to be boorish. Is that your car out there — the 
Corbin sedan?” 

The girl nodded. 

“ Yes. I was delayed in Santa Barbara or I 
never would have been caught after dark in this out- 
of-the-way spot — if you’ll pardon me.” 

“ Certainly,” Jack smiled. He saw that the 
girl’s predicament was genuine, and he rather wel¬ 
comed than otherwise the diversion of her coming. 
“ And possibly,” he continued, 66 it won’t be neces¬ 
sary to send into town for a mechanic. I know 
enough about a Corbin to make any slight repairs. 
I’ll take a look anyhow if you wish.” 

The girl accepted gratefully. Jack tossed a 
wrench down beside the door to keep it open, and 
accompanied her down the drive. He was taking 
no risk that he could perceive. The sedan stood 


58 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


immediately in line with the drive, and from it he 
could at all times command a view of the lighted 
shop doorway. And in his hip pocket was the 
automatic. 

The 66 engine trouble” took only a moment to 
locate, moreover. One turn of the starter, and 
Jack stepped to the ground, laughing. 

44 It’s nothing serious, then?” the girl asked anx¬ 
iously. 

46 It might be on any car but the Corbin,” 
Reese replied. 46 It happens that you’re out of 
gas!” He turned the nickeled lever opening the 
small emergency tank, a Corbin feature, and held 
open the door. 44 That fixes it, I think. But you’d 
better stop at the next service station you pass.” 

After effusive thanks, the lone motorist drove 
off. And Jack returned to the shop with a decision 
to turn in. But he had no more than removed his 
coat, when his attention was drawn to a crackling 
sound coming from outside the rear wall. He 
threw up the window shade and looked out. The 
sheathing of redwood shingles, bone dry, was ablaze 
to the rafters! 

Reese saw at a glance that while he could not 
hope to cope with the mounting flames alone, there 
was no danger of the fire spreading to the cot¬ 
tage. But there was no time to spare for sending 
in an alarm if he wished to save anything. As 
rapidly as he could, therefore, he picked out the 
more valuable tools and carried them to safety. 
It was an easy matter to lever the motor out over 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


59 


the doorstep. Then, while there was still time, he 
re-entered the doomed workshop to remove the 
plans from beneath the flooring. With these safe 
under his arm, he darted out the door. 

But a gruff command stopped him as he crossed 
the threshold. He whirled around, his free hand 
reaching instinctively for the automatic in his 
pocket. The movement, however, stopped mid¬ 
way. Confronting Reese was a masked man, with 
a heavy-caliber revolver resting ready in his hand! 

“Up with those mitts!” the hoarse voice — 
patently disguised — repeated the command. 
“ And hand over that box!” 


CHAPTER VI 


Jack executed the thug’s order with alacrity — 
at least in part. He knew enough of firearms to 
entirely respect their capabilities. But he did not 
at once give over the box of plans. 

“ Have it your own way, old man,” he grinned, 
extending his arms above him. “ But you won’t 
find enough on me to pay you for your time. 
There’s less than a dollar in my pocket.” 

The other made no reply. He quickly “frisked” 
Reese, abstracting only the Colt automatic, how¬ 
ever, which he dropped into his coat pocket. 

“ Now gimme that box!” he barked. 

“ But it’s nothing but some — some personal 
papers,” Jack demurred. “ It could be of no 
possible value to you.” 

“ Hand it over!” The thug pressed the muzzle 
of his weapon tight against Reese’s stomach. “ It 
happens to be worth a whole lot to me.” 

A light dawned on Jack. Not without admira¬ 
tion of a sort, he saw how he had been cleverly 
trapped into this desperate predicament. The 
thug had patiently awaited a favorable opportu¬ 
nity; he had then fired the shop, knowing well that 
the plans would quickly come to light in the emer¬ 
gency. Inwardly cursing himself for not having 
taken the time to put the drawings in a safe deposit 
box, as he had intended, Reese extended the thin 
packet to his captor. 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


61 


46 Here it is,” he shrugged. 44 Turn it over to the 
Geneva gang with my compliments.” 

The thief eagerly grasped the package. But as 
he did so, momentarily relaxed from his catlike 
vigilance, Jack lunged at him. His fingers bit into 
the thug’s wrist just above the revolver, instantly 
throwing it out of its dangerous alignment. A 
sudden sharp wrench, aided by the leverage of his 
right forearm — an Apache trick Reese blessed 
Marcel for having shown him — and the thug, with 
a cry of pain, dropped the weapon to the ground. 
But before his pain-numbed fingers could fasten 
on the butt of the automatic, Reese had the thug 
locked in a tight clinch. 

Back and forth they swayed, each striving vainly 
for an advantage. Reese was the shorter of the 
two, but more muscular. But this was offset by 
the thug’s wiry and supple elusiveness. Time and 
again he all but squirmed free, only to have his 
hand caught in the nick of time before it could 
reach the automatic. 

Both fought silently, grimly aware of the neces¬ 
sity of husbanding their strength. The struggle 
would be to a finish, that was evident. The thug 
had his liberty at stake; Jack’s future was wrapped 
up in the thin packet of plans now being trodden 
underfoot. And with the lurid flare from the 
workshop — aflame beyond all hope of salvage 
now — lighting up the scene of conflict, the com¬ 
batants fought it out. 

For a time Reese had slightly the better of it. 


62 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


With a lightning-quick left he forced the thug to 
keep his arms continually on guard, and he rocked 
the man time and again with slashing uppercuts. 
Repeatedly he measured his opponent with well- 
timed blows to the jaw and body; and by deft 
blocking, he managed to evade for the most part 
the other’s powerful but awkward swings. 

But the thug seemed made of steel. His power 
to assimilate punishment was unbelievable. And 
his clubbed fists, flailing out wildly, began to find 
a solid mark with increasing frequency. 

But Jack dared not give an inch, even when a 
foul blow sent a wave of nausea and weakness 
sweeping over him from head to toe. At all costs, 
he knew that he must keep the offensive, must 
crowd his man so closely that the other would have 
no moment to flash the automatic from his coat 
pocket. 

Clinching with weakened strength, Jack tripped 
his opponent to the ground. Over and over they 
rolled — first one on top, then the other. But the 
masked man knew more of the tricks of this 
rough and tumble fighting. Effectually smothering 
Reese’s short-arm jabs, he yet found repeated op¬ 
portunity to use his own elbows and knees with 
telling effect. And without at all relaxing his 
defense, he worked his hands slowly toward 
Jack’s neck. 

And at last the powerful, bony fingers found 
their goal. Reese felt them bite into his throat 
and shut off his labored breath. But anchored 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


63 


flat on his back, with his senses reeling, he 
yet clung stubbornly to the thug’s free arm — 
which was again groping for the pistol. With 
his other hand, Jack clawed weakly at the black 
mask close above him. And finally he man¬ 
aged to pull it free. Distorted with hatred and 
fear were the features thus exposed — the ferret 
face of Sam Massey! 

Suddenly Reese went limp. His head lolled 
back and his arms dropped inert to his sides. 
Massey shifted his position slightly to get at his 
weapon. But as he grasped its butt, Jack’s two 
hands shot out and closed over the bony wrist 
again; and Jack’s legs, freed for the moment, 
locked quickly about the Geneva spy’s lower ribs. 

Despairingly, his face washed of color from the 
effort, Reese drew tighter his rib-crushing scissors 
hold. His locked ankles straightened away from 
the other’s back in a final attempt to make the 
pressure unendurable. 

For a long moment, victory hung in the balance. 
Massey moaned with pain, writhed convulsively. 
But his right hand, free at last, came from his 
pocket holding the automatic. Pointing it fairly 
at Reese’s head, he pressed the trigger! 

Unfortunately for him, Massey was not famil¬ 
iar with the mechanism of an automatic pistol. 
He did not know that his finger all but touched the 
safety lock which would free the trigger which he 
pressed frantically — and without result. He re¬ 
versed the weapon, groaning, and brought it swing- 


64 THE CHECKERED FLAG 

ing down in a weak, glancing blow against Jack’s 
temple. 

Massey extricated himself from the unconscious 
form beneath him and stumbled to his feet. He 
took a staggering step toward his revolver, glinting 
near by in the flame-lit yard. Reese had recog¬ 
nized him; a shot would end the possibility of a 
long imprisonment. But he suddenly stopped. 
Then, with an incoherent cry of fear, he scooped 
up the packet of motor plans and dashed into the 
protecting shadows of the fruit trees behind the 
shop. And not a second too soon. A machine 
was skidding on two wheels into the driveway. 
Marcel and Mother McGuire were concluding their 
evening’s trip to the movies with a record-breaking 
sprint! 

While the Irishwoman telephoned hysterically 
for the police and fire departments, Dejeans 
brought his partner around with a dash of cold 
water. And in short order Jack was back on his 
feet, tenderly massaging his bruised scalp while 
recounting the story of the disaster. 

44 Sacre damn!” Marcel excitedly cut him short 
near the beginning, 66 it ees ze beeg Corbin close’ 
car you feex?” 

66 Yes, it was — ” 

But Marcel was already frantically spinning the 
crank on the cut-down. His eyes were bright with 
a new hope. 

64 Come!” he cried. 44 Zose Corbin sedan, it ees 
now parked in ze next block. Me, I ’ave seen it as 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


65 


we came by. Ze girl, she ees ze decoy zat waits for 
Massey!” 

Reese picked up the Geneva spy’s deserted re¬ 
volver and climbed shakily into the seat beside 
Marcel. And the flivver, vibrating a protest in 
every joint at the mistreatment, spun in a semi¬ 
circle and went careening out of the drive. 

Dejeans switched on the spotlight and up-tilted 
it to shine far down the street. Two blocks ahead, 
just getting well under way, it picked up the ma¬ 
chine Jack had “repaired” so trustfully for the girl 
from Santa Barbara. Evidently Massey had lost 
several valuable minutes through exhaustion or 
overcautiousness in circling widely to rejoin his 
fair accomplice. 

But the girl, for all the frailty she had exhibited 
to Jack, soon enough proved herself an excellent 
driver. The sedan rapidly picked up a speed of 
sixty miles an hour, and took a sharp turn to the 
right no less skillfully than did the cut-down under 
Marcel’s guidance. Probably supposing that a 
warning had been sent ahead to Tres Arroyos, the 
girl chose to flee toward the foothills. And it 
seemed likely that she would shortly show a clean 
pair of heels to the pursuers. Marcel, extracting 
the last ounce of power from the lighter motor, 
was gradually being outdistanced. 

“ Ze gun! Shoot!” he shouted to Reese, without 
moving his straining eyes from the road ahead. 
“ Shoot! or zey weel get away.” 

Jack shook his head. 


66 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


44 I might hit the girl.” 

66 Zen aim for ze tires.” 

46 And kill her in a big smash-up? No,” Jack 
said decisively. 64 She’s a woman. I couldn’t do 
that — even to get the plans back. We’ll have to 
race it out.” He chuckled in spite of himself. 
44 They’ve only got a couple of gallons of gas left, 
I’ll swear that, Marcel. They didn’t figure on a 
slip-up like this. And if they keep heading east, 
we’ll have ’em in less than a half hour. After 
they cross the highway, it’s uphill work for a good 
ten miles, with no turnoffs. And you know how the 
Corbin eats the gas on a climb!” 

On sped the sedan. The flivver followed. A 
good half mile separated the two when the high¬ 
way was reached. But without faltering, the lead¬ 
ing machine shot across the gray asphalt and on 
into the hills. 

Marcel laughed exultantly. 

In five minutes more, the sedan had widened the 
gap to a mile. The hills were closing in. Often 
the leading car was lost sight of on the winding 
road; but the reflection from its powerful head¬ 
lights could be seen far across the opposing canon 
walls. Soon even this tracer was lost. 

44 They’re out of gas at last,” Jack guessed. 
44 They’ve stopped and snapped off the lights. And 
Massey won’t get far in this brush with the girl 
on his hands. I think we’ll get those plans back 
tonight yet, Marcel.” 

The little Frenchman drove on in silence for a 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


67 


space. The flivver racked along at a veritable 
snail’s pace, steam hissing out around the radiator 
cap. Abruptly Marcel threw on the brake and 
stopped. 

46 It ees far enough, I theenk,” he said, clamber¬ 
ing out. 66 We are close. And zey may be 
waiting to shoot.” He cast a disgusted glance at 
the simmering cut-down. “ Sacre damn! it ees 
anyhow bettair to walk!” 

Cautiously the partners advanced. Jack held 
Massey’s revolver ready in his hand. From some¬ 
where about his person, Marcel abstracted his be¬ 
loved “steel.” 

One bend followed another. The moonless night 
was almost impenetrably dark. To proceed si¬ 
lently required slow and careful walking. But 
around the fifth bend the sedan was finally discov¬ 
ered. Closed in upon cautiously, it was found to 
be deserted. 

Marcel circled the machine and then returned to 
Jack. 

“ Zey cannot ’ave gone far,” he whispered. 
66 Lie down flat on ze ground and wait. We weel 
see.” 

Wonderingly, Reese obeyed, following his part¬ 
ner’s maneuvers in bewilderment. The little 
Apache first found himself a stick. With this he 
went noiselessly back to the sedan. He opened the 
door, and, keeping well down, punched on the 
tonneau light. Then lying flat on his back in the 
darkness beneath the running board, he slowly 


68 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


raised his cap on the stick until it bobbed just level 
with the plate-glass windows. 

From well up on the hillside a shot rang out. 
Came the splintering sound of broken glass. With 
a dry chuckle of amusement, Marcel lowered his 
cap — neatly perforated through the crown! 

66 Sacre damn!” he exclaimed admiringly, yet 
ruefully. 66 Zose cap, she cost me two dollair! 
Massey ees ze good shot.” 

66 I’m convinced!” Jack agreed. 46 And I’m be¬ 
ginning to suspect, too, that Sam Massey is a better 
scrapper than I ever gave him credit for. He 
surely puts up a great battle when he’s cornered, 
anyhow.” 

46 Pouf!” Marcel disparaged. 44 Even ze rat 
weel fight in ze peench. But come. We weel fol¬ 
low. You shall see zat ze steel ees bettair. Voila! 
me, am I to lose ze whole night’s sleep?” 

Jack followed close behind up the oak-grown 
hillside whence the shot had come. The Apache 
seemed gifted with the trail instinct of an Indian. 
He followed an unerring course, while Jack, com¬ 
pletely at sea in the tangle of shrubbery, kept up 
with difficulty. But finally Marcel stopped. 

44 From zere, among zose oaks, ze shot it ees 
come.” He pointed upward toward a spot to 
which Reese’s eyes could not fathom. 44 It ees 
come from zere, but zey are gone.” Implacably, 
he resumed the pursuit. 44 Come.” 

Jack, however, remained rooted to the spot. 

44 Marcel!” he cried. 44 Listen!” 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


69 


From below on the roadway came the soft purr 
of a motor getting under way. The sound of a 
hastily meshed gear assured Reese that he was 
not mistaken in his quick suspicion. 

64 They circled down around us while we were 
climbing!” he ejaculated disgustedly. 44 If we 
aren’t the pair of blue-ribbon fools, Marcel!” 

Crashing downward through the brush, the part¬ 
ners reached the road in time to catch the mock¬ 
ing wink of a tail light disappearing around a 
bend far below. The sedan was gone. And more, 
the flivver had been pilfered of part of its fuel sup¬ 
ply, and the pet cock had been left open to drain 
the rest. 

44 Well, I’ll be blowed!” Jack blinked. 44 But 
I’ll have to hand it to Massey; that was neat work.” 

44 Name of a name!” Marcel mourned. 44 Ees it 
zen zat I am to walk home on ze foot?” 

44 Not unless Massey hunted out our private 
stock, too.” Jack threw open the luggage com¬ 
partment behind the seat. 44 I’ve been caught 
empty too many times not to be ready for an emer¬ 
gency. This gallon ought to take us back to town.” 

With the spare container emptied into the tank, 
the partners started on their return trip. 

44 If I’d only thought to take the registration num¬ 
ber,” Jack grieved. 44 That might have helped 
some.” 

44 Me, I saw zose numbair,” Marcel informed 
him, brightening. 44 1 remembair. It ees zis 
year’s numbair.” 


70 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


44 Of course it is,” Reese replied impatiently. 
46 Just like almost a million others. What good is 
that?” 

44 Zis year’s numbair!” Dejeans insisted. 44 One- 
nine-two-t’ree!” 

44 Eleven hundred pardons, Monsieur!” Jack 
grinned. 44 1 didn’t understand at first. But now 
that I know the number, we’ll hustle down to police 
headquarters and have them broadcast a warning. 
It probably won’t do any good, but it’s worth the 
chance.” 

Shortly before midnight, the partners reached 
the Tres Arroyos police station and made a report 
of the events of the evening. The desk sergeant 
jotted down the sedan’s number without extending 
much hope. 

44 Massey stole the car most likely,” he theorized, 
44 and he and the skirt’ll ditch it for some safer 
getaway. But I’ll send out word. We haven’t a 
record of this year’s registrations here yet, but if 
you want to wait a minute I’ll phone the Los 
Angeles police headquarters and get the dope.” 

The connection was made quickly, and after a 
brief conversation the sergeant hung up the re¬ 
ceiver. 

44 Yes. I was right; the bus was stolen,” he 
said, swinging around in his chair. 44 Lifted right 
in this town, in fact.” 

44 In Tres Arroyos?” Jack queried. 

44 Yes. It belongs to the manager of the Corbin 
plant — Barton Kline.” 


CHAPTER VII 


At approximately eleven o’clock that night, 
Barton Kline returned home by taxi from an in¬ 
formal affair at the Corbin mansion. His home 
was a rather pretentious establishment for a bach¬ 
elor to manage, but Kline had both the income and 
the inclination to indulge his lavish tastes. He 
lived there alone, save for the three servants who 
waited upon him — a butler brought from the 
East, a Chinese cook, and a negro chauffeur whom 
he had given the night off. A woman came in 
daily to care for the house. 

Kline let himself in with his latchkey and went 
immediately to the library, which he seemed sur¬ 
prised and no little nonplussed to find unoccupied. 
He rang impatiently for the butler, who responded 
immediately, entering through a door which gave 
into a rear hallway. 

“ Hasn’t Massey got back yet, Stevens?” Kline 
asked sharply. 

The butler, stout, florid, and in no wise typical 
of his calling, answered with a similarly striking 
lack of deference. 

66 No, he ain’t,” he said. 66 He came and got the 
car about nine, but he ain’t showed up or reported 
since. Something must of slipped up.” 

“Umph! I doubt it.” Kline dropped into a 
chair. 66 Massey’s a fool, Stevens. We’ll have to 
71 


72 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


get rid of him before long. He loses his head too 
easy. But he’s a good man for this job, and he’s 
always teamed up well with Dolly before. She 
steadies him. And if things had gone very far 
wrong, she’d have gotten word to us somehow be¬ 
fore now.” 

64 Maybe they double-crossed you,” Stevens sug¬ 
gested pessimistically. 

The Corbin manager shook his head emphati¬ 
cally. 

44 Not a chance. Dolly and I understand each 
other pretty well,” he said, with a meaning smile, 
44 and Sam isn’t taking any chances with me. I 
know too much about his history.” He lit a cigar 
and settled back complacently. 44 No, this scheme 
you figured out is water-tight as far as we’re con¬ 
cerned, Stevens. We’re in the clear any way you 
look at it, or I’d never have gone into it. If 
Massey gets the plans, I’ll see to it that you and 
I get most of the credit. But if he and Dolly 
should be caught, there’ll be no comeback from 
them. I’ll have you report the car stolen in about 
a half hour, anyhow, just for safety’s sake — that 
is, unless they show up all to the clear in the 
meantime. And if things turn out right later, we 
can always notify the police to drop the case.” 

For nearly a half hour thereafter, wrapped in 
thought, Kline sat silently before the library fire¬ 
place, chewing nervously at the dead perfecto 
pinched between his teeth. Occasionally he 
smiled, half mockingly, but for the most part his 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


73 


thick brows were drawn together in a frown of 
concentration. And once his right arm stretched 
out, the thick fingers crushing slowly together, while 
his blinking hazel eyes were alight with a sinister 
sort of triumph. 

That was Barton Kline’s way of climbing toward 
the goal of power which was his ruling passion. 
He crushed. On his way to success he had 
ruined a dozen innocent men, perhaps. As many 
more he had used — safe within the law himself 
— to further his purposes, and then sacrificed 
them to justice to keep his own name clean. At 
thirty-five, Barton Kline was drawing a salary of 
fifty thousand dollars per annum from Corbin 
Motors, and still he was not content. His belief 
in his capabilities approached a mania. At fifty, 
he saw no reason why he should not be another 
financial meteor as sensational as that German, 
Hugo Stinnes, who in ten years multiplied a scant 
million into the greatest fortune in the world, it was 
reputed. 

Such was the goal of his consuming ambition. 
And the Reese-Dejeans motor was the next pawn 
to be drawn into the game he played. Like a chess 
genius, Kline had the ability to engage several 
opponents at the one time. Against the stiff oppo¬ 
sition of Jack Reese and his partner, he played for 
the secret of their still unpatented motor plans. 
Those once obtained, he had worked out the proper 
moves to checkmate his ruthless employers, the 
Geneva Corporation, and divert the plans to his 


74 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


own purposes. The last game — against Joel Cor¬ 
bin’s dissolute son — was already won. In Kline’s 
safe at the moment reposed papers which, he 
believed, would ultimately give him access to the 
Corbin millions! 

Kline started up from his chair. From beyond 
the door penetrated subdued voices in the rear hall¬ 
way. The Corbin manager looked to assure him¬ 
self that the shades were all tight drawn, and 
quickly picked up a book. And when the butler a 
moment later ushered in Massey and the woman 
referred to as 66 Dolly,” Kline was apparently 
engrossed in his reading. Of his accomplices he 
demanded success; but never did he show to them 
the importance he attached to this success — unless 
they failed. 

66 Well?” he asked casually, glancing up. 

Massey came forward nervously. His face was 
bruised and swollen. One of his eyes was nearly 
closed. The other reflected an inward panic that 
was barely held in leash. 

66 You’ve got to get me out of this mess, Kline,” 
he whimpered. 46 There’s a thirty-year stretch 
hanging over me for this job if I’m caught; and 
you’re to blame, damn you!” 

“ You failed?” Kline barked. 

Massey reached inside his coat, and flung the 
packet of plans to his master with a gesture of im¬ 
potent rage. 

“ Always thinking of yourself first, aren’t you, 
Bart?” he snarled. 66 I’m coming clean with you, 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


75 


though. There’s the plans. But Reese recog¬ 
nized me. I just got away from him by the skin 
of my teeth. Dolly and I gave him and that wild 
frog partner of his the slip in the mountains 
about a half hour ago. But they’ll kill me sure if 
they ever see me again.” Querulously, all but in¬ 
coherently, the story tumbled out between chatter¬ 
ing teeth. “ I’m through, Bart. You haven’t any 
right to force me to do anything more. I — ” 

“ We’ll see about that later,” Kline cut in con¬ 
temptuously. “ Where’s my car?” 

“ Half-way down the block. We rushed right 
here before Reese could send out a description —” 
66 You fool!” Kline snapped erect. 66 Stevens! 
telephone the police. Machine stolen. Just dis¬ 
covered loss when I came home from Corbin’s. 
Understand? Hurry!” He turned to the girl. 
“Tell me exactly what happened, Dolly. You 
don’t seem to have lost your nerve.” 

The girl coolly finished removing her gloves and 
laid them on the Chesterfield. With a wan smile 
she seated herself on the arm of Kline’s chair, 
flushing with gratification when the plant manager 
casually encircled her waist. 

“ No, I haven’t lost my nerve, Barton,” she 
laughed. “ But Sam’s right, it was nip and tuck 
for a while. I managed my part all right, and the 
fire was a huge success.” She went on to recount 
the experiences of the night. “ But,” she finished, 
“ if I hadn’t thought of circling down to the ma¬ 
chine and borrowing the gas to come back, things 


76 THE CHECKERED FLAG 

might have turned out a whole lot worse than they 
are.” 

“ Good girl,” Kline approved, patting her 
shoulder. 66 1 knew you’d put it across, Dolly. 
And you won’t have to worry at all. Reese couldn’t 
have identified you, hardly, from a distance, while 
you and Sam were making your getaway; and cir¬ 
cumstantial evidence won’t get him anywhere 
against the alibi we’ll cook up. There are lots of 
Corbin sedans. But I’d never have forgiven my¬ 
self if — ” Suddenly he lunged from his chair. 
In the hallway the front door buzzer was sounding 
sharply. 

“ The bulls!” Massey moaned. “ They’re after 
me!” Kline ignored him. 

“ Answer it, Stevens!” he called guardedly. 
“ I’m not at home, remember, unless it’s the police. 
If it’s they, keep them waiting as long as you can 
in the reception hall while I get things arranged.” 
He turned sharply to the girl. 66 Dolly, you take 
Massey up to my bedroom until the coast is clear. 
Both of you will have to stay here tonight anyhow, 
until I can figure out some plan to get you away. 
Go up the back way — as fast as you can!” 

Kline waited a moment until they were gone. 
Then he darted to the wall beside the fireplace and 
shoved back a cleverly joined walnut panel that 
hid a small wall safe. A few twirls of the knob, 
while voices raised in heated altercation sifted in 
from the front hall, and the steel door swung open. 
Kline stuffed the motor plans inside. 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


77 


Suddenly he spun half around, tore some busi¬ 
ness papers from his pocket, and began to thumb 
through them absorbedly. A half second later the 
door from the front hallway opened. In the entry, 
breathing heavily, stood Jack Reese! 

“ I won’t need you again tonight, thanks, 
Stevens,” Kline said quietly, without glancing up. 
And quickly, but without seeming haste, he placed 
the papers in the safe, turned down the bolt lever, 
and spun the dial. 

66 No, you won’t need him!” Jack laughed 
grimly. 66 He happens to be in the hall enjoying 
a little rest in charge of my partner, Marcel De¬ 
jeans. We had an argument as to whether you 
were home or not, and he lost. I happened to see 
the light shining under the door here, and decided 
to investigate.” 

Kline stared at the intruder coldly. 

66 This amounts to forcible entrance, Reese,” he 
said. 66 Perhaps if I call up the police this un¬ 
warranted situation will clear itself up without 
any further explanations.” 

“ I wouldn’t, if I were you, Kline,” Jack inter¬ 
posed grimly. 66 1 have a revolver in my pocket, 
and I’m prepared to use it if necessary. Before 
I leave, I intend to have a heart-to-heart talk with 
you.” 

The manager of the Corbin plant eyed him nar¬ 
rowly, but with no evidence of fear or apprehen¬ 
sion. 

“ Under the circumstances, it looks as if the next 


78 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


move is yours, then,” he said, dropping into a 
chair. 66 Fire away.” 

Reese seated himself opposite. 

44 It happens,” he said, 66 that my workshop was 
burned down tonight, and I was held up and robbed 
of my motor plans. The thief and arsonist escaped 
in your car. My partner got the number, and we 
traced it down.” 

44 Thanks. Very thoughtful of you to tell me,” 
Kline said, dryly. 64 But unfortunately you’re 
too late to benefit me. I discovered the theft and 
notified the police nearly half an hour ago — upon 
my return from a most enjoyable evening with 
Miss Corbin.” 

Jack hunched forward in his chair. 

44 But it also happens that Sam Massey was the 
man; I recognized him,” Jack burst out hotly. 
44 He as much as admitted to me the other day that 
he’s employed by the Geneva Corporation. And, 
furthermore, I’m convinced that you’re in with 
him hand and glove. He’s been here sincfe the 
holdup. Coming here from the police station, I 
discovered your machine parked only a quarter 
block down the street! That proves — ” 

44 Nothing, absolutely nothing,” Kline inter¬ 
rupted blandly. 44 Massey could have obtained a 
hundred duplicate keys to my car without trouble 
in the Corbin plant. And you forget, unless you 
are still ignorant of the fact, that I fired my secre¬ 
tary recently for the identical connection you ac¬ 
cuse me of. He threatened me at the time in front 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


79 


of witnesses. And if he stole my machine and used 
it for a criminal proceeding, it seems plausible to 
suppose that he might have returned it here ma¬ 
liciously in an absurd effort to throw suspicion on 
me. Entirely aside from that, however, you would 
have considerable difficulty in gaining serious con¬ 
sideration for your rash theories in court. My po¬ 
sition as manager of the Corbin plant might have 
some weight with even an ordinarily intelligent 
jury.” 

Jack arose and stepped over to the Chesterfield. 
From it he picked up a pair of ladies’ tan gloves 
and tossed them to the other. 

64 Evidently the owner of these left in a hurry,” 
he suggested, with just a shade of triumph. 66 And 
just before the shop was fired, I was requested to 
repair a Corbin sedan of the same model as yours 
for a young lady who later escaped with Massey. 
Incidentally, she wore gloves of this identical 
shade. I have a good eye for color and can’t be 
mistaken. That clinches it, Kline. You’re in on 
this theft, and those plans have been — or will 
be — turned over to you. I want them back. 
What do you intend to do?” 

Barton Kline stood up, without haste and with¬ 
out exhibiting any particular perturbation. 

46 Perhaps a million pairs of gloves of that color 
have been manufactured this year,” he scoffed. 
44 These particular ones were left here early this 
evening by a young lady who called on me. She is 
of unimpeachable character, and there is no reason 


80 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


to suppose that she won’t be willing to swear to their 
ownership if need be. Apart from that, I might 
point out that even your circumstantial case against 
the lady who asked you for assistance, you say, 
is absolutely valueless unless you can positively 
identify her as the same you saw driving off with 
Massey. Can you?” he shot out abruptly. 

“ No.” Jack let slip the admission. 66 1 
couldn’t, but—” 

66 Well, then!” Kline cut in incisively. 66 That 
eliminates the last of your insane theories. Massey 
is the only one you have a case against. Now I’m 
a patient man, Reese. I can even sympathize with 
you for your loss, though you probably won’t 
credit the fact. You’re not yourself tonight. I 
realize that, too. And I’ve let you rave and make 
your ridiculous accusations in the hope that I 
could show you how absurd you’ve been. But 
human nature has its limitations.” He pointed 
toward the door. 66 Either you’ll go — immedi¬ 
ately— without further fuss, or I give you my 
word I’ll swear out a warrant for your arrest and 
press the case to the limit. Which is it to be?” 

The anger slowly died from Jack’s expression 
in the face of the other man’s forcible ultimatum. 
Of a sudden he realized how ill-advised had been 
his impetuous decision to call on the plant manager 
and 64 have it out” with him. Moreover, he per¬ 
ceived that Kline, for all his protestations of com¬ 
plete detachment from the case, had cleverly 
sounded him out on the strength and weakness of 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


81 


his evidence. The interview had lost him much 
and gained him nothing. For he saw now, too, 
with cooler thought, that Kline had summarized a 
defense for himself that was unassailable. 

66 I’ll go,” he said, intensely. 64 But don’t think 
for a second that I’m giving up, Kline. You’re 
hiding behind the law now, but sooner or later 
you’ll overplay your hand. And then my turn will 
come!” With that he turned on his heel and left 
the room. In the hall, he called Marcel from his 
guard duty over the butler, and together they passed 
out into the night. 

44 Ze papairs, zey were not zere, eh?” Marcel 
guessed, as they drove away. 

44 They were; I’d take an oath on it, Marcel!” 
Reese exclaimed. 44 But Kline was too smooth for 
me. He blocked me at every turn. Massey and 
the girl have been there. I even found her gloves. 
But that’s not proof against a man of Kline’s 
standing. And he could produce enough alibis 
to have us laughed out of court — and win a crim¬ 
inal libel case, to boot. 

44 Yet I’m convinced that those plans of ours 
are right now packed away in that little wall safe 
I saw in Kline’s study. But I didn’t have the nerve 
to force his hand.” 

For a time the partners rode on in silence. 
But at last Marcel spoke, tentatively. 

44 Ze safe; ze leetle wall safe,” he mused. 
44 Maybe it ees zat I could break open zose safe, 
eh?” 


82 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


Jack stared at him in consternation. 

66 You could, perhaps, but you wouldn’t, Marcel. 
You’re on the straight and narrow now. Forget 
it!” 

44 Ze straight and narrow, eh?” Dejeans cried. 
64 Ees it zen not ze straight and narrow to take zat 
wheech belongs to you? Sacre damn! have I not 
spent ze one year on zose plans? Have I not made 
ze beeg castles in ze sky, too?” 

44 But the law won’t look at it in that way if 
you’re caught, Marcel.” 

44 Pouf! Ze law!” The little Frenchman 
snapped his fingers. 44 Ze law, it ees made by ze 
strong to keep zat wheech zey have stolen. Me, 
now I am ze law! Tonight, it ees too soon. But 
Kline weel do nozzing ’till he can get ze trusted 
man to copy zose plans,” he shrewdly surmised. 
44 Zere ees still time, Jacques my frien’. And me 
— parbleu! — tomorrow night I weel open zose 
safe. Even you, mon ami , cannot prevent me!” 


CHAPTER VIII 


Reese wisely forbore attempting to force the 
issue at the moment. He understood Marcel too 
well for that. Dejeans possessed passions easily 
aroused; he was a creature of quick impulses. 
And opposition sometimes only further welded him 
to an idea. Moreover, the volatile little Apache 
might possibly appear at breakfast with a quite 
different plan, if left to his own devising. Jack 
devoutly hoped this last would prove the case. 
For Marcel, once he actively embarked on a project 
of violence, might easily succumb to the call of his 
old adventurous underworld life. 

Morning, however, showed no weakening in Mar¬ 
cel’s determination. While Reese, more practi¬ 
cally, had made the most of the few hours after 
midnight to sleep soundly, Dejeans had tossed rest¬ 
lessly, thinking, planning. His haggard features 
showed the strain he had been under. But his 
black eyes were tranquil; he had decided, irre¬ 
vocably. Kline’s safe was to be broken open that 
night. And he quietly made known this unalterable 
decision to Reese as they inspected the ruins of 
the workshop after breakfast. 

66 Zose plans, zey are yours, Jacques, and mine. 
In la vie — in ze lifetime — me, I have done much 
wrong. But for it I have always paid. Ze good 
83 


84 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


God ees weeth ze right, always, I have discovair’. 
Now Kline weel pay. Parbleu! ze plans, I weel 
get zem back tonight!” 

Jack continued to stare moodily into the ashes. 

66 All right, Marcel,” he replied finally, 46 we’ll 
tackle the job tonight, then — together.” 

46 But no!” Dejeans cried. 44 Ze reesk, it ees for 
me alone.” He shrugged, with a wistful smile. 
44 Marcel Dejeans, ze little Frog, he ees nozzing — ” 

44 He’s something to me; and we’re partners,” 
Jack cut in decisively. 44 I’m going. That settles 
it.” And Dejeans, despite the fact that he realized 
only too well that his partner would be a dangerous 
hindrance rather than a help in the undertaking, 
knew that he would have to make the best of it. 

For something like another hour they worked 
among the wreckage, retrieving here and there 
something of value. The motor, practically un¬ 
damaged, was locked in the basement of the cot¬ 
tage along with what equipment Reese had man¬ 
aged to save before the holdup. And they made 
one find that somewhat lightened their gloom. On 
the margin of the smudged sheet of draughting 
paper still intact on Jack’s drawing board, they 
discovered the scribbled formula for the bearing 
alloy! 

Following the successful test, Jack had gone on 
to make a first rough sketch of the bearing itself. 
But neither that nor the formula was sufficiently 
at variance with standard usage to warrant its 
being hidden away. The process of molding was 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 85 

the key to the non-friction feature, and that had 
not yet been entrusted to paper at all! 

Marcel was jubilant, but Reese refused to be¬ 
come enthused. Even without a non-friction bear¬ 
ing, he knew that the motor could be made a big 
success by Kline or his employers. Possibly the 
bearing process might be disposed of for a few 
thousands. But that wasn’t what Jack wanted. 
It was his ambition to manufacture the Reese- 
Dejeans motor. 

Morosely, he wandered out into the front yard 
and pottered around among the flower beds, trying 
to find something to do to keep him from brooding. 
There was really nothing else to take up his time 
until night. He was out of a job; the plans were 
gone — permanently, in all likelihood. Nor was 
it worth while to attempt to duplicate the drawings 
from memory. It might be done, but weeks would 
be required for the task. And long before they 
could be completed, the originals would be filed 
for patent by Barton Kline’s attorneys. 

Slowly Reese’s lips tightened. Marcel’s desper¬ 
ate plan offered the only hope, slight though it was, 
he now saw plainly. Three or four days could 
restore the workshop; and with a couple of trusted 
men to help out, the Reese-Dejeans Special might 
still be completed in time to compete in the Girard 
Cup Race. If the night’s venture proved success¬ 
ful, that would be the procedure. If not — Jack 
shrugged — if they failed, it wouldn’t really mat¬ 
ter much if they were captured. In that event, at 


86 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


least, he would never have to accuse himself that he 
had not made every possible effort to regain what 
was rightfully his. 

Engrossed in his troubled thoughts, Jack did not 
hear the soft purr of the motor quietly coming to 
a stop at the curb behind him. But he turned 
quickly to answer the soft voice which laughingly 
repeated the first unheard greeting. Rita Corbin, 
clad in a tweed knicker suit and a pair of service¬ 
able hiking boots, jumped down from the driver’s 
seat of her chummy roadster and came forward to 
meet him. She knew nothing of the disaster of 
the past night; and a cry of amazement escaped 
her at sight of Jack’s face, which still bore evi¬ 
dences of Massey’s vicious attack. 

44 You positively look like the morning after the 
night before, Jack,” she said. 66 If I didn’t know 
you so well, I’d think you might have turned prize¬ 
fighter. What could have happened to you?” 

46 You ought to see the other fellow,” Reese 
grinned. 44 I’d still like to,” he added ruefully. 
44 1 fell for a Cleopatra smile, Rita, and the lady 
rewarded my youthful inexperience by having me 
knocked out and my workshop here burned down.” 
He proceeded to explain the details, omitting only 
the unfortunate encounter with Barton Kline. 

44 I’m awfully sorry, Jack,” Rita sympathized 
sincerely. 44 Dad was telling me the other day 
about the things you’re trying to do, so I know 
what this loss means to you. But I know, too, that 
you’ll succeed in the end, somehow; and I’m not 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


87 


going to let you mope around here all day as I 
found you. I really came to drag you away from 
your work and make you take me out in the hills 
for the day — as you promised to do weeks ago. 
It’s a glorious day, and I brought a lunch along to 
make sure you wouldn’t beg off.” 

The girl’s outspoken faith in him was more heart¬ 
ening to Reese than he would have cared to admit. 
And in his despondent state, the chance of a care¬ 
free day in her company was nothing less than a 
godsend. 

44 Barkis is willin’. I can’t resist the double 
inducement,” he laughed. 

44 The double inducement?” Rita queried inno¬ 
cently. 

44 The lunch and the fine day, I mean.” 

“ I’m going to buy you one of those books on eti¬ 
quette,” Rita pouted. 46 It’s strictly against the 
rules to refuse to give a compliment when the lady 
expects it.” 

Jack surveyed her trim habit with open admira¬ 
tion. 

46 Words fail me,” he admitted. 44 When a girl 
can wear a knicker suit without detracting from her 
charms, as you can, she ceases to be a mere human. 
She’s a — a divinity!” 

44 Stop!” the girl cried, in mock alarm. 44 1 
insist on remaining human at least until after we’ve 
had lunch! So let’s get started before it’s too 
late. Shall we take your machine?” she suggested 
tactfully. 


88 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


66 If there’s any possible way of helping you 
into a cut-down without violating more than twelve 
rules of etiquette,” Reese said, leading the way 
into the back yard. 

Rita glanced appraisingly at the big racer Jack 
had bought in Los Angeles. 

44 That’s my latest folly,” he told her. 46 1 
bought it last week. It’s an old-time racing ma¬ 
chine. Right now it isn’t much to look at, but I 
hope to remodel it.” 

44 Let’s take it anyhow,” Rita suggested ani¬ 
matedly. 44 It looks romantic, and I’ve never rid¬ 
den in a real racing car.” 

Reese helped her to climb into the cockpit. It 
was more roomy and comfortable than the cut- 
down, and at least as reliable, despite its worn 
condition. And the tires, with patching material 
and re-liners in the tool box, were good enough to 
chance the luck of the road. 

44 Where to, now?” Reese asked, as they turned 
into the street. 44 Yours to command, you know.” 

44 Let’s go through the old San Andreas Mission 
first,” the girl proposed. 44 Then, if the car be¬ 
haves, we can ride on up to Pinto Springs at the 
summit for lunch.” 

44 1 guess we can make it,” Jack agreed. 44 The 
road’s in pretty bad shape after the rains, prob¬ 
ably, but we ought to be able to pull the worst of 
it in low.” 

To Reese, the experiences of the morning were 
like the ministration of some soothing lotion. 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


89 


Prey to a consuming anxiety though he was, he 
could not be insensible to the mere joy of living 
on such an occasion. Beside him sat Rita Corbin, 
vivacious, responsive, yet fitting into his every mood 
as if a part of it. The valley orange groves lay 
swathed in the languorous spring sunshine. A 
tempering breeze rustled gently down from off the 
mountains to the eastward. And the dirt road, 
gradually ascending into the hills with many sharp 
turnings, opened an ever-changing vista of spring¬ 
time at every bend. 

Cupped in the hills, lay the ruins of Mission 
San Andreas. Half of its once-imposing arches 
were fallen, trellises now for masses of creeping 
roses. Bees bustled industriously from flower to 
flower. And water purled gently over the lip of 
a weed-clogged fountain. 

A half of the main building remained standing, 
however, with a bell still pendent beneath its sturdy 
beam of mountain oak. And over this remnant of 
the Padres’ faith and devotion yet watched the 
humble hand of an aged worshiper. White-haired 
Father Gregory, caretaker by his own wish, each 
night tolled the Angelus; while his days of peace¬ 
ful meditation were occasionally enlivened by the 
visit of an interested passer-by. 

To Jack and Rita he opened up his heart. He 
showed them the remaining treasures of the place 
— moldy parchment manuscripts centuries old and 
service vestments brought in galleons from Spain. 

The cloistered peace of the mission, the gentle 


90 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


faith of its aged servitor, were all doubly im¬ 
pressive to Reese. After all, he wondered, was 
happiness to be found in material things? Father 
Gregory, frugally eking out his fading years closely 
attuned to nature, had found content. While he, 
young and worldly in his ambitions — that night 
he planned forcibly to enter another’s premises and 
rob a safe! Overwhelmed with a sudden re¬ 
pugnance, Reese determined to make, on his return, 
a more determined attempt to dissuade Marcel 
from the lawless venture. 

Father Gregory bade his visitors a friendly 
adieu. 

64 Yes, go on to the summit,” he advised. 44 You 
are the first to go by here in a week, but I know the 
road to be passable. And youth should go to meet 
the springtime in the high places.” He sighed, but 
without regret, as he advised from the experience of 
years whose span was nearly full. 44 You are 
children yet. Like this road here, your lives will 
have many turns and steep ascents. Face them 
patiently and with clean hearts. For the summit is 
closer than you think — now. May it bring you 
happiness.” And murmuring a gentle benedic¬ 
tion, he slowly turned away. 

It took an hour, mostly in low speed, to reach 
Pinto Springs. The old racer, missing frequently, 
plunged gallantly up the last pitch and stopped. 
Jack clambered out. 

44 1 guess it must be about boiled dry,” he said, 
44 so I’ll wait until it cools a little to refill the radi- 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 91 

ator. And I’ll admit I’m more than ready to 
tackle that lunch basket.” 

With luncheon over, they decided to hike along 
the ridge to a point where an unobstructed view 
might be had both east and west. It was only a 
walk of two or three miles, Rita said, over a well- 
defined trail. 

64 I’ve been there a dozen times and know the way 
perfectly,” she overrode Jack’s weak objections. 
44 We can be back to the car easily before dark. 
And for Heaven’s sake, Jack, smoke your pipe if 
you want to. You look absolutely miserable.” 

44 1 am,” Reese admitted. 44 1 feel like a stuffed 
turkey. But the walk will fix me up. It’s after 
two, though, so we’ll have to move right along.” 

The hike to Lookout Point, as Jack had predicted 
without knowing the way, occupied well over an 
hour. Windfalls and slides caused by the winter 
storms blocked the trail in numerous places, re¬ 
quiring wide detours and stiff climbing at times. 

But the view unfolded to them as they dropped 
down a sharp descent to their objective was worthy 
of the labor expended to gain it. Lookout Point 
lay at the northernmost end of the ridge, a bare 
and precipitous eminence commanding the wide 
horizons. To the east lay the desert, naked and 
sere, practically uninhabited. Turning about, 
however, the scene shifted as if by magic. In¬ 
stead of a barren waste of sand and raw rock, the 
forested mountains billowed down to smiling 
valleys. Streams silvered the canon depths, 


92 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


hurtling downward to the sun-swept Pacific. And 
coasting vessels smudged the horizon with their 
smoke. 

46 It’s wonderful, isn’t it, Jack?” Rita breathed. 
44 Just like fairyland, or dreams come true. I — 
I hate to go back.” 

Reese glanced anxiously at his watch. 

44 It’s great, all right!” he agreed enthusi¬ 
astically. 44 But we’ll have to be scooting, I’m 
afraid. It’s four o’clock already, and it gets dark 
pretty early, you know.” 

44 Prude!” Rita smiled. 44 The busybodies in 
Tres Arroyos have given my case up as hopeless 
long ago. But I know a short-cut back to the 
main trail that will save us fifteen minutes at least, 
so don’t worry. We’ll strike it by just going along 
on this level instead of climbing.” 

Jack followed the girl’s positive directions to the 
letter. But after twenty minutes of strenuous 
walking the short-cut was still 44 just a little further.” 
Jack became frankly alarmed. 

44 We can’t go back,” he pointed out. 44 If we 
did, we’d surely get caught in the dark. And we 
can’t possibly climb these cliffs above here to the 
ridge. So we’ll just have to follow along parallel 
to it and hope the brush stays thin enough to get 
through. I don’t want to frighten you, Rita, but 
we’ll be in a genuine fix if we don’t reach the 
road before dark. These nights are pitch black.” 

44 I’m not tired.” Rita attempted a smile. 
44 Maybe we can try to go a little faster.” 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


93 


Close to the horizon now, the sun seemed to be 
sinking more rapidly. And with its setting would 
end all chance of following a safe course along 
the mountainside. Reese increased his pace un¬ 
consciously from moment to moment, breaking a 
way through the brush. The girl kept up gamely 
for another hour. Then, of a sudden, she dropped 
to the ground. 

66 1 can’t drag myself another step,” she ad¬ 
mitted, fighting back the tears. 66 I’m tired out — 
all over. I guess — we’ll have to camp here.” 

Jack dropped to his knees beside her and gath¬ 
ered her into his arms. 

“ I’m sorry; I should have been more thought¬ 
ful,” he said, contritely. 66 I’ll carry you, if you 
don’t mind. We’ll have to keep on until the last 
minute. It can’t be far now.” 

Smiling mistily, Rita clasped one arm around 
his shoulder to steady herself in his arms. 

64 I’m a regular baby,” she said. “ And you’re 
a dear. Jack, not to scold me for causing you all 
this trouble and worry.” 

Reese trembled in spite of himself. Rita Cor¬ 
bin always before had seemed to him as a thing of 
dreams, almost unreal at times. He had forced 
himself to regard her in that one light; and the 
illusion had grown on him as their friendship 
ripened. But now, close-held in his arms, she re¬ 
vealed herself as a trustful and tired bit of sheer 
womanhood. She was not inaccessible, he saw, if 
he chose to forget the difference in their positions. 


94 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


Half-unconsciously, Jack drew his arms closer 
about her. She lowered her head to his shoulder 
to escape a brushing branch, allowing it to remain 
there trustfully, afterward. 

Ahead, Reese could see through the twilight 
what seemed to be a break in the brush. They 
would have to stop there, he decided. It was 
almost dark, and wood must be collected for a fire 
before the falling of night made it impossible. 

He worked his way to the edge of the clearing — 
and stopped. Before him, not a hundred feet 
away, was the dim ribbon of the road! More, on 
the far side loomed the familiar bulk of his own 
machine, and another. By some unguessed in¬ 
stinct of direction, he had laid a course through the 
brush and evening dusk directly back to Pinto 
Springs! 

“We’re back, thank the Lord!” he cried, help¬ 
ing the girl to her feet. “ Luck was certainly 
with us, Rita — ” He paused abruptly. With 
his exclamation, the lights of the second machine 
snapped on. The car was a Corbin sedan, with 
two bullet-shattered window panes to identify it. 
And to further verify its ownership, the lights re¬ 
vealed the thick-set form and scowling features of 
Barton Kline! 


CHAPTER IX 


The Corbin manager came forward to meet the 
others. He bowed formally to Jack, addressing 
himself particularly to Rita — somewhat posses¬ 
sively. 

“ I telephoned you late this afternoon, and your 
maid told me that you had planned to come up here 
for the day,” he related glibly. 66 And knowing the 
dangerous condition of the road, naturally I was 
worried. So I decided to trail along and assure 
myself of your safety. Of course, I had no idea of 
intruding at all — none whatever. But when I ran 
across your — ah — car still away up here at 
nightfall, the circumstance seemed — ah — un¬ 
usual enough to warrant my waiting. I hope I 

haven’t offended you, Rita, but-” His ardent 

glance completed his justification. 

“ Certainly not!” the girl replied. “ It was very 
thoughtful of Barton, wasn’t it, Jack?” 

“ Very!” Reese echoed hollowly. 

“ We got lost,” Rita went on, laughing. “ And 
Jack played the part of a movie hero to perfec¬ 
tion; he carried me! But I’m recovered now, and 
I’ll gather up the lunch things while you get the 
machine started, Jack. I’m not absolutely help¬ 
less, thank goodness!” 

Barton Kline, glowering darkly, followed Reese 
to the old racing car. 


95 



96 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


64 Why waste time by trying to carry out the 
deception?” he queried, as soon as they were out 
of earshot of the girl. 44 I’ve spoiled your little 
game, Reese, so you might as well make the best 
of it.” 

Jack snapped erect from a fruitless effort to 
turn over the motor. 

44 What do you mean?” he demanded. 

44 1 suppose you don’t know that your radiator 
is bone dry and that the pistons are frozen tight?” 
Kline sneered. His tone was openly insulting, and 
his face was livid with a jealous passion. 44 I’ve 
been onto your game for a long time, Reese. You 
played for big stakes, but you were bound to lose. 
I didn’t want to distress Miss Corbin with an un¬ 
pleasant scene, so I trumped up that story about 
’phoning this afternoon. However, it may interest 
you to know that I’ve had you constantly watched 
ever since I fired you. Otherwise, your little 
scheme, raw as it is, might have gotten over.” 

Jack took a step forward. 

44 And just what is that 4 little scheme ’ of mine 
you have all figured out so nicely, Kline?” he 
asked in a choked voice. 

44 A broken-down machine; a deserted road; 
impossible to go the fifteen miles to the mission in 
the dark!” the plant manager barked out his accu¬ 
sation. 44 That’s your raw scheme, you young 
pauper! You were deliberately trying to compro¬ 
mise Miss Corbin so that-” 

Jack’s fist shot out. The blow caught Kline flush 



THE CHECKERED FLAG 


97 


on the point of the jaw and dropped him to the 
ground. Jack struck out again in a blind fury as 
the other staggered to his feet. And this time the 
plant manager remained where he fell, uncon¬ 
scious I 

Rita came running up, and bent down over the 
limp form. 

66 I’m sorry-” Jack began miserably. 

66 Sorry!” Rita exclaimed scornfully, her eyes 
flashing. “ You should be utterly ashamed of 
yourself! I didn’t think that you could be so un¬ 
grateful as to resent Mr. Kline’s thoughtfulness. 
Certainly you showed the greatest lack of consider¬ 
ation for me.” Kline sat up weakly, and she 
dabbled at his bleeding lips with her tiny hand¬ 
kerchief. 66 It was brutal!” 

Jack’s face hardened. He was worn out with 
fighting through the brush, doubly burdened with 
Rita’s weight part of the way. He had done every¬ 
thing humanly possible to save her from discom¬ 
fort and to protect her name from evil-minded 
gossip. And this second unjust accusation, coming 
hard on the heels of Kline’s crude suggestions, was 
too much for his self-control. Under the circum¬ 
stances, it did not occur to him that the girl might 
also be somewhat unstrung, or that her interpre¬ 
tation of the encounter was entirely logical to one 
witnessing it from a distance without having heard 
the plant manager’s insulting preamble to it. 

66 Perhaps, then, you’d prefer to ride back to 
town with Mr. Kline,” he blurted out. 



98 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


44 I would — most certainly!” Rita flamed, 44 un¬ 
less you have some explanation to offer for your 
cowardly act — or are ready to apologize to Mr. 
Kline.” 

Reese shook his head stubbornly. 

44 1 can’t explain, Rita; and I won’t ever apolo¬ 
gize — to him. I’m glad I did it. Glad!” 

The girl turned away. Solicitously she helped 
the plant manager into his machine, taking the 
wheel herself. In a moment the sedan started 
down the grade. And Jack, watching with a dull 
ache in his heart, could not see that Rita relented 
even so far as to give him a parting glance. 

Among a tumult of varied emotions, one thought 
stood out clearly in Reese’s brain. Barton Kline 
was responsible for this lost friendship which 
meant so much to him. The plant manager had 
craftily baited him into a violent retaliation. More¬ 
over, Jack more than half believed — recalling 
the glancing nature of his second blow — that 
Kline had feigned unconsciousness to further 
arouse Rita’s resentment. 

Reese wheeled the racer to the lip of the grade, 
gave it a final shove, and climbed in. With the 
gears unmeshed, he could coast for several miles 
downhill; and he was determined to get back to 
Tres Arroyos before midnight. Forgotten was the 
resolve he had made in the peaceful shadows of 
Mission San Andreas. Father Gregory, in his 
quiet garden, knew nothing of the trickery of men 
— nor the sting of a woman’s misunderstanding. 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


99 


And when Marcel Dejeans finally rescued his 
partner from a wayside farmhouse, whence he 
had telephoned in, at about eleven o’clock that 
night, he was delighted to find him not only willing 
but grimly eager, to proceed to the pilfering of 
Barton Kline’s safe! 

The partners returned home first to leave the 
flivver, which Marcel insisted must not be left 
parked a few blocks from Kline’s home, as Jack 
suggested. At that time of night it might easily 
become damning evidence, he explained, if dis¬ 
covery forced them to flee without first recover¬ 
ing it. 

66 Have it your own way,” Jack grumbled. 
“ You’re the boss from now on, Marcel. Let’s go.” 

Cutting cross-lots at the start as a safeguard from 
possible espionage, they made their way unob¬ 
served into the spacious grounds surrounding Bar¬ 
ton Kline’s mansion. Earlier in the day, the little 
Frenchman had reconnoitered from a distance, and 
he knew the way perfectly. Furthermore, he had 
found that the special policeman who guarded the 
homes of the wealthy made his rounds only once 
every hour. Tres Arroyos was an orderly com¬ 
munity where crime was of exceptional occurrence. 

It was an easy matter to follow up the curving 
drive in the protection of the shrubbery. The night 
was moonless, but the “ landscaped ” grounds were 
sufficiently open for free walking. And a hall 
light, left burning all night, gave the intruders 
their direction. But once safely behind the build- 


100 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


ing, Marcel left Reese to search out the most 
favorable point to force an entrance. 

66 Wait!” he said, and was gone. 

To Jack, his partner’s absence seemed to extend 
into hours. Furtively crouched down in a clump of 
toyon bushes, he could only listen, without seeing. 
There was no sound of Dejeans’ moving about. But 
other minatory noises came from every side. A 
machine stopped at a near-by home. A dog barked 
furiously in the next street, apparently coming 
closer. A measured tread which echoed hollowly 
along the sidewalk Reese guessed to be the police¬ 
man pacing off his rounds. 

66 Psst!” 

Jack started up, every nerve aquiver. But it was 
only Dejeans, returned as noiselessly as he had 
gone. 

66 Come,” he whispered. “ Ze place, it ees 
found. It weel be easy. But you must be so quiet 
lak ze mouse.” 

Jack followed to what he judged to be a kitchen 
window. Marcel opened his coat and took a tool 
from the case slung under his arm. It was a long 
tire iron purloined from the flivver’s repair kit to 
do service as a makeshift jimmy. Dejeans, wise in 
the ways of his past profession, had purchased no 
equipment that might excite suspicion. 

He levered the iron under the bottom sash and 
pressed down tentatively. Then with more weight. 
There was practically no sound to the operation. 
The short catch screws parted noiselessly from the 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 101 

soft-grained redwood frame. The window slid 
upward without protest; and down again. 

Reese once more was forced to wait in the 
kitchen while Marcel spied out the plan of the 
first floor. But the Frenchman came back more 
quickly this time, playing the beam of a flashlight 
along the floor ahead of him. He beckoned from 
the doorway of the butler’s pantry for Jack to join 
him. 

66 Quiet — more quiet!” he warned, though his 
partner tiptoed forward with the utmost care. 64 It 
ees zat you make ze noise lak ze elephant! But, 
no. Me, I theenk it ees safe if we are careful. 
Zere ees no one on zis floor, I ’ave discovair’. 
Come!” 

On one side the pantry opened into the dining 
room. At the end it gave into a short hallway con¬ 
necting it with Kline’s combined library and study. 
The door to this was locked, but Marcel opened it 
readily with a skeleton key of his own manufac¬ 
ture. And as painstakingly he slid the bolt back 
into place when they were inside. 

First of all Dejeans familiarized himself with 
the room. The front entrance, through which Jack 
had come the night before, was also locked. The 
window shades were drawn already, too, though 
little light could escape through the thick tangle of 
climbing roses, wickedly barbed, covering the win¬ 
dows. Incidentally, that checkmated Marcel’s in¬ 
tention of leaving one of the sashes open as a 
possible point of escape. A third door, in the rear 


102 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


wall, was half ajar, and revealed a small closet, 
practically empty. 

“ Now where ees zose safe?” the little Apache 
queried softly. 

Reese was at a loss for a moment. He had seen 
the safe but once, and that while engrossed in a 
heated debate with Kline. And so accurately was 
the panel fitted over the spot that he could only 
locate it approximately. 

Dejeans gave him the flash to hold, showing him 
how to shield it with his coat to keep the rays from 
spreading widely. Then, with the light properly 
directed, the Frenchman went skillfully about his 
work. His sensitive fingers felt along the paneling, 
tapping it gently. 

“ It’s nearer the fireplace; about the height of 
your chest, I think,” Jack whispered after a time. 

Marcel moved over a couple of steps and re¬ 
sumed his sounding at a slightly higher level. In 
another moment he exhaled his breath in a soft 
sigh of triumph. Under his probing knuckles, the 
panel returned a hollow sound. After that, famil¬ 
iar with such mechanisms, he quickly located the 
false joining which pressed down to release the 
panel catch. The wall safe, its nickeled combina¬ 
tion and bolt glinting under the guarded light, 
stood ready for the final test of Marcel’s peculiar 
genius. 

The little Apache surveyed it disdainfully. 

“ It ees nozzing — ze toy,” he whispered. But 
before attacking it, he bade Jack snap off the flash. 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


103 


Then he glided to both doors in turn, listening in¬ 
tently. He returned, smiling faintly, satisfied that 
these added precautions had been unnecessary. 

Jack turned on the flash again, but Dejeans 
motioned him to shut it off. It was easier to work 
without it, he explained — easier to concentrate. 

Reese could hear nothing. And only faintly, by 
straining his sight, was he able to detect the slow 
turning of the knurled dial under Marcel’s deli¬ 
cate touch. On the stage he had seen 66 Alias 
Jimmy Valentine ” enacted, but, too, he had heard 
safe experts scoff at the plausibility of it. Even 
with finger tips sensitized by emery paper, they had 
declared it next to impossible to open a safe simply 
by the 46 feel ” of the tumblers. 

Marcel, however, revealed no such skepticism. 
In fact, he had already expressed scorn at the 
resistant qualities of the miniature strong box. 
And because of its small size, the number of pos¬ 
sible combinations was correspondingly simpli¬ 
fied. The divisions on the dial ran only to fifty. 

Marcel continued slowly to twirl the knob. His 
fingers and ears coordinated like those of a great 
musician, as a violinist who feels confidently for a 
complex harmony whose accuracy only his attuned 
ear can verify. Finally he straightened up and 
casually wiped the perspiration from his hands. 

44 Now, ze flash again,” he requested guardedly, 
flexing his cramped fingers. 

Jack switched on the light. Dejeans carefully 
turned the knob to the right, to the left; right once 


104 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


more, and around to zero. The lever clicked down. 
The safe door swung open. On top of a pile of 
miscellaneous documents lay the packet contain¬ 
ing the diagrams of the Reese-Dejeans motor! 

With a flourish, Marcel presented it to his part¬ 
ner. 

“ Take out zose plans,” he grinned, reaching 
into his inside coat pocket. 66 Me, I have some 
bettair ones to leave for Monsieur Kline. And per¬ 
haps zat way he weel not discovair his loss so 
soon.” Quickly he replaced the drawings Jack 
had removed with some blank draughting paper 
and locked the safe on the dummy package. But 
as he drew shut the panel, he abruptly swung 
around with a finger pressed to his lips in warning. 

Jack waited motionless, hearing only the excited 
tripping of his heart, while the little Apache flitted 
to the front door and back again. 

66 We must go — queeck!” he whispered ex¬ 
citedly. 66 Some one ees zere outside. No noise. 
Come!” 

Once more the door leading into the rear hall 
was unlocked and opened without a sound. But 
Marcel stopped dead in his tracks one step beyond 
the threshold, his eyes wide with amazement and 
concern. His short knife appeared in his hand 
as if by magic. 

Even to Reese their predicament was transpar¬ 
ent. He, too, had heard the muffled thump of a 
displaced chair in the dining room and the mut¬ 
tered curse that followed! 


CHAPTER X 


Dejeans crouched down, his body tense and 
rigid. Slowly and without sound, he began to 
edge forward toward the pantry. His eyes, 
mere pin points now, were blank of expression. 
Trapped in the dark hallway, he had no intention 
of giving up his liberty without a desperate strug¬ 
gle. Like a sinister shadow, knife raised, he chose 
to advance to meet whatever danger threatened 
rather than to cower before it. 

But Reese clutched him by the shoulder, forcing 
him back into the library. Marcel tried to shake 
free, but it was impossible to evade the desperate 
hold without a tell-tale scuffle. At the front en¬ 
trance to the study the scratching of a key was now 
plainly audible. The Frenchman relocked the 
back door and turned despairingly to his partner. 

66 We are trap’!” he explained fiercely. 66 Zere 
ees no way out wizout ze fight. Me, I weel hold 
zem off. Nevair weel we give up zose papairs 
— nevair!” He quickly piloted Jack into the 
small closet. 66 Jacques, it ees zat you must hide 
in here while I try to draw zem off — ” 

Reese, however, held the little Apache in a vise¬ 
like grip, pulling the closet door nearly shut after 
them. 

66 Nothing doing!” he said. 66 We stand or fall 
together. If it’s Kline, we’ll call for a showdown. 

105 


106 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


But if it’s the police, we’ll have to give up; they’re 
only doing their duty. Quiet, now!” 

With his eye close to the crack at the rear of 
the door, Jack could command a view of a seg¬ 
ment of the dark library. No sound came now 
from the back hallway. The scratching at the 
front entrance had stopped. That door was slowly 
swinging open. A shadowy form whisked inside. 
The door closed again. The shadow circled the 
room with a clumsy effort at silence. The drawn 
shades rustled noisily as an unskillful hand 
lowered them unnecessarily to their full extremity. 
With a dull click, the lights switched on. 

Jack barely repressed a cry of amazement. The 
intruder was neither Barton Kline nor a patrolman. 
It was young Gordon Corbin! In his one Jiand 
was a revolver; in the other was a bunch of keys 
which he had withdrawn from the lock after one 
had successfully, but noisily, released the bolt. 

Joel Corbin’s son stood beside the light switch 
for a moment, blinking, accommodating his eyes 
to the abrupt change from darkness. Then the 
keys jingled back into a pocket; and he set about 
the task that had brought him to Barton Kline’s 
mansion, unlawfully, in the dead of night. 

Furtively, the young ne’er-do-well produced a 
pinch bar and forced open Kline’s desk. And with 
careful attention he began assorting the papers and 
envelopes crammed into the various pigeonholes. 
The contents of each envelope was scrutinized care¬ 
fully before being tossed to the floor. And Cor- 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 107 

bin muttered impatiently to himself at each failure 
to discover what he sought. 

Jack relinquished his place of vantage to Mar¬ 
cel. He was dumfounded. As shop superintend¬ 
ent, he had seen enough of Gordon Corbin to 
know him to be entirely lacking in prudence; to 
know, too, that he was not without a sort of stub¬ 
born, headstrong courage. But what possible 
necessity could have urged him to break into 
Kline’s home and ransack his private correspond¬ 
ence? What of any value would the plant man¬ 
ager not have secured in his safe? And what 
of the unknown man, still unaccounted for, who 
was closing in from the dining room? 

Jack gave it up and resumed his watching at 
the door jamb above the absorbed Apache. 

Entirely unsuspicious of their presence, Cor¬ 
bin continued his unavailing search. The floor was 
littered with papers he had discarded. And the 
top compartment of the desk had been completely 
rifled without result. In the act of prying open 
the first of the side drawers, however, he paused 
to listen. A look of consternation flashed across 
his face, superseded by one of stubborn determina¬ 
tion. And clutching up his revolver in a hand 
that trembled slightly, he tiptoed slowly toward the 
door at which he had entered. 

Even to the partners in the closet, whose view did 
not embrace that corner of the room, the cause of 
his alarm was apparent. The door had rattled 
violently, as if some one had suddenly thrown his 


108 THE CHECKERED FLAG 

weight against it attempting to make a surprise 
entrance. 

44 Why doesn’t whoever it is open it?” Jack 
whispered to Marcel. 64 Corbin didn’t lock it after 
him.” 

Dejeans with an appreciative smile for a ruse 
whose import he recognized instantly, nodded his 
head to one side. Jack looked in that direction. 
At first he saw nothing untoward. Then his eyes 
caught an almost unappreciable movement. Be¬ 
hind Gordon Corbin’s back, the knob of the rear 
door was turning silently; and by inches the door 
crept open. A hand showed in the opening next 
— its stubby fingers cuddling a small blued auto¬ 
matic! Corbin reached for the light switch. But 
from behind came a suave voice, halting him. 

44 Put up your hands, Gordon, please! And 
oblige me by leaving the lights on.” The voice 
spoke gently, but there was an underlying edge 
to it as threatening as the snap of a blacksnake’s 
lash. 

Corbin’s hands reached upward. Barton Kline, 
with a dressing gown thrown over his pajamas, 
stepped coolly into the room. 

44 Stevens,” he called. 44 Please come in here 
now and relieve this young man of his weapon. 
Pm sure he won’t require it any more this eve¬ 
ning.” 

The butler threw open the front door and took 
the revolver from the young millionaire’s unre¬ 
sisting fingers. 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


109 


46 1 don’t think I will need you any more to¬ 
night, Stevens,” Kline smiled blandly. 64 But I 
must say that you managed your end of this little 
denouement very nicely — very nicely, indeed. 
You may keep the revolver, if you wish, as a mark 
of my appreciation.” 

44 Thank you kindly, sir,” Stevens grinned. 
44 I’ll treasure it, sir.” And he bowed his way out. 

Gordon Corbin faced his captor furiously. 

44 Damn you, Kline!” he cried; 44 that’s too 
much. I won’t allow you to let your servants in¬ 
sult me — ” 

Kline gestured imperiously to a chair. 

44 Sit down, you young fool,” he said. 44 And 
don’t try any of your snobbish bluster with me. 
It doesn’t sound well coming from a thief caught 
red-handed ransacking a house.” 

44 I’m not a thief, and you know it, you filthy 
blackmailer!” Corbin burst out hotly. 44 I’m only 
here to try to protect a woman’s reputation — ” 

44 So that’s it, eh?” the plant manager mocked, 
his greenish eyes blinking speculatively. 44 A most 
laudable impulse, I’d say! It’s merely a coinci¬ 
dence, I suppose, Gordon, that by being so gallant 
you also are attempting to safeguard yourself? 
And it is really unfortunate that you didn’t know 
until recently that Congress isn’t kindly disposed 
toward certain kinds of inter-state romance. How¬ 
ever, a man may always plead extenuating circum¬ 
stances by marrying the woman in the case — ” 

44 She’s impossible, and you know it!” Corbin 


110 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


threw aside his weak pose. 64 She’s a damned little 
unprincipled leech!” 

44 Dolly Landon might be interested to hear 
that you had made such a remark,” Kline re¬ 
marked, dryly. 44 Perhaps it’s my duty as a friend 
to tell her.” 

Gordon Corbin slumped back in his chair with 
a gesture of surrender. 

44 What’s your price, Kline?” he choked out. 
44 1 know you have that hotel register sheet hidden 
around here somewhere. Name your price, and 
I’ll pay it.” 

Kline raised a hand in protest. 

44 You misjudge me,” he said. 44 To think that 
you would believe me capable of taking advantage 
of a friend’s predicament.” 

44 Ten thousand!” 

The plant manager shook his head, smiling. 

44 1 told you a week ago that it wasn’t for sale. 
If I took payment for it, I would be guilty of 
extortion. And that would be criminal.” 

Beads of perspiration stood out on Corbin’s fore¬ 
head. He sprang from his chair. 

44 Twenty thousand!” he offered. 44 That’s my 
limit, if I have to kill you, by God!” 

Kline gestured him back into his chair with a 
significant movement of the pistol. 

44 I’m a law-abiding citizen, Gordon,” he replied 
coolly, 44 and I cherish my friends. I’ve been 
keeping that document in my safe merely to pro¬ 
tect you. It’s not for sale, as I said.” He paused, 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


111 


eyeing the other calculatingly. 44 But if you really 
want it so badly, I might possibly arrange to trans¬ 
fer it to you in some less repulsive way. For in¬ 
stance, it just occurs to me that you might help me 
out — as a friend — on a certain deal which, 
frankly, I could engineer much easier with your 
assistance. Do that, and I’ll be glad to return 
the favor by giving you that register sheet for noth¬ 
ing— simply as turnabout between friends.” 

44 Go on!” Corbin prompted eagerly. 

Kline settled back comfortably on the Chester¬ 
field. 

44 It’s simple enough, Gordon — and entirely 
within the law. It happens that I have certain in¬ 
complete specifications for a new and advanced 
type of motor. They require one addition to make 
them usable to me. That addition is a non-friction 
bearing such as, I am reliably informed, young 
Reese — formerly our shop superintendent, you 
know — has perfected. But he refuses to sell at 
any price — or will. In a nutshell, I want you to 
get that bearing for me.” The plant manager 
glanced behind him as if some slight sound had 
disturbed him. But he turned back quickly, sat¬ 
isfied with his casual inspection. Joel Corbin’s son 
was pointing an accusing finger at him. 

44 I’ve got your number now, Kline,” he ex¬ 
claimed. 44 It was you who engineered the burn¬ 
ing down of Reese’s workshop and the stealing of 
his plans. Massey is only your tool.” His eyes 
widened with sudden full comprehension. 44 Why, 


112 THE CHECKERED FLAG 

you’re nothing but a damned spy for Geneva 
Motors!” 

Barton Kline smiled impassively. It appeared 
that he rather enjoyed this cat and mouse situation 
— wherein his was a position of complete domi¬ 
nance. 

66 1 wouldn’t air that startling theory very widely, 
if I were you, Gordon,” he suggested urbanely. 
64 In fact, it might be better if you weren’t to speak 
of it even to your father. You mustn’t forget, you 
know, that I can always have you jailed for break¬ 
ing into and entering my home tonight. And 
then, too, we haven’t come to an understanding 
about those Dolly Landon papers as yet.” 

Corbin sank back in his chair, glowering like 
a cornered beast. 

44 1 won’t take a hand in your dirty work, 
Kline,” he said. 44 I’ve learned my lesson, and 
I’m going to play the game square from now on. 
I didn’t wrong Dolly Landon to begin with, and you 
know it. It was a clever frame-up such as a 
dozen wealthy young fellows have been trapped 
into in the last year.” 

44 Possibly,” Kline shrugged. 44 But as sure as 
the Lord made little apples, you’ll be convicted 
if the case comes to trial. You realize that, too, 
or you wouldn’t be here. And such being the situ¬ 
ation, it might be better for you to consider my 
proposition. It’s quite simple, and entirely legal. 
You merely will have to go to Reese and apologize 
for that mix-up you had in the shop — ” 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


113 


64 1 would have done that before, if it wasn’t 
for having to do it in front of that French gutter 
rat he’s always with.” 

44 Then you’ll be killing two birds with one 
stone,” the plant manager pointed out. 44 And in 
the course of your conversation, you can mention 
that you’ve heard Reese needs capital. Your father 
told me that he wants to borrow ten thousand dol¬ 
lars. Offer to advance him that amount — the 
offer wouldn’t arouse his suspicion, coming from 
you — on a call loan, with the specifications of his 
new bearing at stake in case he can’t meet the obli¬ 
gation later on.” 

44 He wouldn’t do it,” Corbin objected. 44 He 
wouldn’t take that risk.” 

44 He’d jump at the chance,” Kline insisted. 
44 He doesn’t understand business methods very 
well, and if you made it clear that you’d give him 
all the time he needed, he’d take your word for 
it. In a month he can do over the plans he lost. 
Unfortunately, however, I have — ah — similar 
plans all ready to be filed in the patent office. 
A man leaves Detroit tomorrow to come out here 
to revise and — ah — redraw them in suitable 
form for me. He’s a reputable young inventor, 
and the patents will be made out in his name — 
with certain restrictions. That will, of course, pro¬ 
tect me from any unjust suspicion such as yours.” 

The plant manager smiled complacently. 

44 1’m merely telling you all this, Gordon, so 
that you’ll see that you will be harming Reese in 


114 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


no way by helping me. On the contrary, you will 
practically be donating ten thousand dollars to him. 
The bearing is useless to him without a motor to 
put it into, that’s obvious. So, simply sign over 
your agreement with him to me, and I’ll give you 
whatever incriminating evidence I possess against 
you. It’s an eminently fair proposition all 
around.” 

66 It’s a damnable robbery!” Corbin cried. 46 1 
won’t do it!” 

46 But you will, Gordon,” Kline contradicted 
sharply. 44 You’ll do it tomorrow. Because if 
you don’t, you’ll be hailed up before a United 
States District Judge in a week’s time. Dolly 
Landon is in Los Angeles now, ready to take the 
witness stand when I give the word. Her testi¬ 
mony, alone, might be discounted, it is true. But 
backed by the evidence that I have — in your own 
handwriting — no lawyer in the world could keep 
you out of a Federal prison for two years at the 
least. And a scandal, unfortunately, often reacts 
in other serious ways. Fathers have been known to 
disinherit their sons for less.” 

Gordon Corbin rose from his chair. But there 
was no need for Kline’s significant motion with 
the weapon in his hand. Corbin’s nerve was gone. 
His face was chalk white, and his whole body was 
atremble. 

44 I’ll do it,” he groaned. 44 I’ll have to do it! 
You’re an unmitigated scoundrel, Kline, but you’ve 
got me cornered. I’ll see Reese tomorrow.” 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


115 


“ But, remember,” Kline warned, “that even 
after you have the evidence I’ll give you, it won’t 
be advisable for you to broadcast any of the con¬ 
fidences I’ve entrusted to you tonight. Your pres¬ 
ent rather — ah — informal visit here would make 
such a step decidedly indiscreet — decidedly so.” 
He motioned Corbin to precede him from the room. 
“ Permit me. Perhaps it would be more conven¬ 
ient for you to leave through the front door instead 
of by the dining room window at which you en¬ 
tered.” 

With the departure of Kline and his enforced 
ally from the library, the closet door opened slowly. 
First Reese came out; then Marcel. The latter was 
smiling, but Jack was sober-faced. The witness¬ 
ing of the complete moral breakdown of old Joel 
Corbin’s son had sickened him. 

“ Get me out of here as quickly as you can, 
Marcel,” he begged. “ Just to be in here makes 
a fellow feel like committing murder!” 


CHAPTER XI 


It was close on two o’clock when the partners 
reached home after an uneventful escape from 
Kline’s mansion. But Reese was up at daybreak, 
arranging his materials for the busy days ahead. 
First of all he wanted to complete the motor speci¬ 
fications and get them safely entered at the pat¬ 
ent office. If all went well, it might be several 
days before Kline discovered the substituted papers 
in the packet in his safe; and those few days, well 
utilized, could put the Reese-Dejeans plans out of 
all danger from the avaricious plant manager. 

With this in view, Jack went down to the base¬ 
ment and secured the board and drawing equip¬ 
ment he had rescued from the flaming workshop. 
These he arranged handily in his bedroom before 
breakfast, ready for work. And over the morn¬ 
ing meal, he and Dejeans mapped out a compre¬ 
hensive plan for the labors of the coming week. 
Every minute would count from now on, especially 
with the date of the Girard Cup Race drawing dan¬ 
gerously near. One more setback, however slight, 
and the Reese-Dejeans Special would never be 
completed in time to enter in the event. And the 
winning of the prize money was now more impera¬ 
tive than ever. 

66 I’ll tackle the plans, Marcel,” Jack suggested; 

116 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


117 


“ and perhaps you’d better take a boy out the 
Mission road to begin with and tow in the old wreck 
I left out there last night. Then hire a contractor 
to throw together another shop for us in a hurry. 
Offer him a bonus if necessary to get him right on 
the job with a crew. Two days is the most we 
can allow him, as I’ll have the drawings in shape 
by then, and we’ll want to get right at the making 
of the machine. Last of all, rustle around and 
rake up at least two good mechanics — men you 
know will keep their mouths shut — to help on the 
motor. We can’t possibly finish the job in time 
alone.” He stood up. 66 Let’s get moving.” 

Followed a busy morning for Reese. But with 
hope once more restored, he attacked his job en¬ 
thusiastically. And by noontime he had a formid¬ 
able mass of neatly diagrammed sheets to his 
credit. Part of it was in duplicate, but the second 
sheets — for his own use in the actual construc¬ 
tion work — required far less painstaking care 
than those going to the patent office; and necessary 
notations could be made in longhand instead of 
the slower print. 

In his concentration, the unpleasant events of 
the previous day and night slipped from his mind. 
Subconsciously, however, they persisted. His 
brows remained knitted together in a frown that was 
not entirely the result of his calculations over the 
drawing board. Still endured the sting of Rita’s 
misunderstanding and the feeling of great loss, the 
boyish hatred of Barton Kline, and the contempt — 


118 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


and, in a way, pity — he felt for Gordon Corbin. 
These were deep-rooted in him, and no probable 
eventuality would change them. Rita would con¬ 
tinue to despise him, as he despised her wastrel 
brother. While Barton Kline, with his many irons 
heating in the fires of his ambition, would continue 
likewise to hate and be hated until either he or 
Reese was permanently disposed of. 

It was shortly after lunch that Jack was inter¬ 
rupted by a knock on his bedroom door. It was 
Mother McGuire, come to announce a visitor. 

64 1 towld him ye was out, and that ye’d given 
orders that ye wasn’t to be disturbed, both,” she 
said, 44 but the young id jit won’t take no fer an 
answer. 4 Tell him it’s Misther Corbin,’ says he, 
4 and I’ll be ever so much obliged to ye, mum. It’s 
important.’ ” 

Jack started at mention of Corbin’s name. It 
was inevitable, of course, that the old land baron’s 
son should come to present Kline’s infamous pro¬ 
posal; but Reese had given no thought as yet to 
some method of countering it successfully. Other 
considerations had weighed on him too heavily in 
the last few eventful hours. Yet counter it he must, 
he felt, and in some way that would thwart Kline 
without arousing his suspicions. Not for young 
Gordon’s sake, but for Rita’s. Notwithstanding the 
girl’s humiliating leavetaking of the night before, 
Jack still cared for her too deeply to permit her 
name to be drawn even indirectly into a scandal 
if it could be prevented. And it would break the 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


119 


proud heart of Joel Corbin to see his only son a 
butt for the muckraking yellow press. 

On the other hand, Reese knew that the boy was 
individually unworthy of his aid. He was snob¬ 
bish to a degree, had made Jack’s firm insistence 
that he keep from meddling in the Corbin shop a 
subject for open sneers more than once; and only 
last night there had been a tense moment in Kline’s 
closet, while Reese restrained the furious Dejeans 
with difficulty, when Corbin had referred to the 
little Frenchman as a Paris gutter rat or some 
such opprobrious thing. 

But these slurs must be overlooked for Rita’s 
sake and because of the debt Jack felt he owed 
her kindly father. He nodded to the waiting Mrs. 
McGuire. 

“ Have him come up, please,” he said. But on 
second thought, he changed his mind. 66 No, I’ll 
go down to see him. I’d rather he wouldn’t get a 
look at this layout here.” 

Gordon Corbin was waiting uncomfortably and 
ill at ease in Mother McGuire’s spick-and-span 
parlor when Jack entered the room. His cheeks 
glowed a dull red, and despite an attempted ease, 
his eyes refused to meet squarely the level glance 
that was directed toward them. Nor had the fail¬ 
ure of his conscience to transcend his fear of ex¬ 
posure in any way improved his habitually dissi¬ 
pated appearance. He looked what he was — a 
pampered boy faced with a crisis too big for his 
wealth-enfeebled manhood to meet honestly. 


120 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


Even at that, Reese could almost find a feeling 
of sympathy for the other. Perhaps, as Corbin 
had insisted, he was the victim of a frame-up; and 
he had rejected Kline’s proposition until the screws 
were applied unbearably. Doubtless, too, he had 
considered what shame his disgrace would bring 
to his father and sister. 

All these thoughts flashed over Jack as he waited 
for Gordon to speak first. That much, at least, 
was due him, he felt. The overtures, however 
difficult and unusual for him, should come from 
Corbin. 

66 Reese,” the boy said, with painful hesitancy, 
64 1 came to apologize to you. I — well, I’m sorry 
for that nasty mess I dragged you into at the plant 
a while back. I was wrong — all wrong. And 
I guess I’ve acted the cad toward you a good many 
more times than I realize even now.” His voice, 
genuinely sincere, broke for a moment. His eyes, 
filming almost to the point of tears, had in them an 
expression of tragedy. 44 But these last few days 
I’ve come to realize a lot of things I’d never paid 
much attention to before. And I want you to know 
that I regret all the trouble I’ve ever caused you. 
I do; I do, really!” His hands clenched spas¬ 
modically. 44 And God knows I have troubles of 
my own to teach me the lesson!” 

Jack was surprised — and pleased — by Cor¬ 
bin’s sincere apology. And the boy’s obvious dis¬ 
tress touched him. He held out his hand im¬ 
pulsively. 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


121 


44 I’ll be glad to forget the past and be friends,” 
he said. 44 And if I can ever help you out in any 
way, just call on me.” 

Gordon hesitated. For a moment he seemed on 
the verge of accepting this opening for confidences. 
But quickly his fear of Kline redominated his bet¬ 
ter nature. 

44 Thanks; that’s good of you,” he replied, and 
hurried on to present the unworthy offer that was 
Barton Kline’s price. Evidently he had rehearsed 
the part, for he broached the subject with a glibness 
that in ordinary circumstances would have been 
truly convincing. He offered the loan of ten thou¬ 
sand dollars in a way that could not offend Jack’s 
pride, and by frankly explaining the mechanism of 
a 44 demand” note, robbed it of any suspicious sig¬ 
nificance. Banks handled their loans in that man¬ 
ner, he explained, even though option of payment 
was extended often for years. And Reese could 
have all the time he needed. As for security, he’d 
leave that more or less up to Jack. 

44 But I suppose you’ll want to offer something 
as collateral,” he qualified, smiling. 44 That’s busi¬ 
ness, and I know you wouldn’t care to accept my 
offer in any other way.” 

Jack shuddered inwardly. As Kline had told 
Corbin last night — and he recognized the truth of 
it now — he was the veriest greenhorn in financial 
matters. And had he not been forewarned, he 
would have blindly accepted the boy’s offer in the 
best of faith. He would have utilized the money 


122 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


— and later paid the penalty in full. His word 
alone, even without a written agreement, would 
have forced him to meet the obligation. 

But now he chose to accept the offer with full 
realization of its purpose. He paved the way clev¬ 
erly for a natural entrance of the non-friction bear¬ 
ing into the discussion. And when Gordon eagerly 
professed himself willing to accept all rights to it 
as the stipulated forfeit in case of default, Jack 
himself insisted that the agreement be made in 
writing. So the contract was drawn up; Mother 
McGuire witnessed the signatures; and Reese, with 
a check for ten thousand dollars in one hand, bade 
good-by to Gordon Corbin. 

Jack returned to his work only half-heartedly. 
He kept wondering whether he had handled the in¬ 
terview with Corbin from quite the proper angle. 
Not that he had endangered the motor in part 
through placing a loan on it. He had no intention 
whatever of using the money; he had simply fallen 
in with Kline’s scheme to pull young Gordon’s 
chestnuts out of the fire — for the sake of his sis¬ 
ter and father. And the check would be deposited 
intact in the Tres Arroyos Bank, ready to meet a 
demand at any time. 

But he began to doubt that he had really aided 
the boy materially by accepting the loan. The no¬ 
tion persisted that Barton Kline was not the man 
to relinquish his hold on Joel Corbin’s son for so 
moderate a service; somehow, he was sure, the 
plant manager’s Machiavellian mind would pro- 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


123 


duce some method to continue his thrall over so val¬ 
uable a tool. And Kline, an admitted employee of 
Geneva Motors, could bring ruin to the Corbin in¬ 
terests by forcing the son to play traitor to his 
father. 

That was one angle to be considered. Too, there 
was the horrible possibility of Rita marrying Bar¬ 
ton Kline, never suspecting the manner of man he 
was. And this was no remote possibility, either. 
Kline had the facility of being all things to all 
people, and he undoubtedly possessed an ingrat¬ 
iating personality when he chose to exercise it. 
And to an impressionable girl, the mere dropping 
of his sophisticated pose was in itself a subtle com¬ 
pliment. Rita was undoubtedly more than ordi¬ 
narily interested in him. 

Jack thought of exposing the plant manager to 
Joel Corbin and his daughter. But he saw at once 
how helpless he was in that respect. He could pro¬ 
duce no proof. If he asked Gordon to substantiate 
him, the boy would naturally deny any knowledge 
of the facts through fear of reprisal on Kline’s part. 
As for himself, he could hardly confess that his in¬ 
formation was the result of a safe robbery or of 
unlawful espionage in Kline’s study. And that 
last would force him to betray Gordon. But he 
was grimly determined that if the worst came to 
the worst — that is, if Rita announced her en¬ 
gagement to Barton Kline ever — he would make 
any sacrifice to prevent a marriage that could only 
result in disillusionment and tragedy. 


124 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


In another two days the motor plans were com¬ 
pleted and sent off by registered mail to a reliable 
patent attorney in San Francisco. In the same 
time a new workshop was completely erected over 
the ashes of the old one. All necessary equipment 
stood ready for beginning work on the Reese-De- 
jeans Special on the morrow. Marcel had hired 
two trustworthy mechanics to assist in the work. 
And he had himself stripped the old racer of its 
motor and prepared it to be fitted with new wings 
of speed. 

That evening Jack took sober account of his 
remaining capital. It was discouragingly small. 
Aside from the ten thousand dollars borrowed from 
Gordon Corbin, which he subtracted from his bank 
balance, there remained barely enough to complete 
the car, pay the entry fee for the Girard Cup Race, 
and meet the stiff ’expense of wear and tear during 
the actual contest. 

If he failed to win a place in the event, he would 
be penniless. Moreover, if even some slight set¬ 
back occurred before that time — if some unfore¬ 
seen expense of, say, two hundred dollars had to 
be met — he would have to scratch the Reese-De- 
jeans from the list of entrants. Funds would be 
lacking to meet the bare cost of running the race. 
Nor could Marcel be counted on for help in that 
regard. With true Parisian prodigality, he spent 
his money as he made it. Financially, he was a 
liability rather than an asset. 

The doorbell rang. Reese was sitting alone in 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


125 


the living room, while Marcel ostensibly assisted 
Mother McGuire with the dishes, so he went to the 
door. As he opened it, he snapped on the porch 
light. But at first sight of his visitor he could not 
believe his eyes. Somehow, however, he managed 
an uncertain greeting. 

66 Won’t you come in? Please do,” he said, 
banally enough, still all but speechless with amaze¬ 
ment. 

Rita Corbin accepted a chair beside the hearth 
fire with the quiet composure that seems to be a 
peculiarly feminine virtue in difficult social situ¬ 
ations. Although hers was a far more trying posi¬ 
tion than Jack’s, she was actually much the calmer 
of the two. Reese was frankly up in the air. All 
at the one time he was puzzled, delighted — and 
apprehensive. For it was apparent that only some 
considerable readjustment of Rita’s viewpoint 
could have brought her here. And beneath her 
calm, she was obviously holding herself in under 
great tension. Jack stared at her speechlessly un¬ 
til she spoke. 

66 You look as if you were seeing a ghost, Jack!” 
she smiled wanly. 46 But you’re not. You only 
see a very humble little person who’s sorry — 
dreadfully sorry!—for having misjudged you.” 

64 You’ve found out, then —?” Jack began. 

Rita shook her head. 

44 No; I still only know what I saw at Pinto 
Springs, if that’s what you mean. But I’ve found 
out other things to-day — things that I can’t tell 


126 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


you about — that make me know you must have 
been in the right despite appearances. Even be¬ 
fore that, though — when I thought it all over at 
home that night — I was ashamed of myself. I 
shouldn’t have doubted you — ” 

66 We were both upset and worn out,” Reese 
disparaged. 46 And I won’t allow you to apolo¬ 
gize to me, Rita. My nasty temper was respon¬ 
sible for it all.” 

The girl ignored this as she hurried on to un¬ 
burden herself of other matters that oppressed her 
mind. 

44 Jack, my brother has confessed to me that he 
loaned you ten thousand dollars. You mustn’t 
spend that money. You mustn’t! I can’t tell you 
why, but — ” 

Reese drew close and took one of Rita’s hands 
in his. 

44 Rita, we’ve known each other a long time 
now. I believe you know that I can be trusted. 
You’re in trouble — indirectly, at least — I’d be 
blind if I didn’t see that. Won’t you let me try to 
help you?” 

The girl stood up hurriedly. Her composure 
deserted her of a sudden. Tears brimmed in her 
eyes — eyes strangely like her brother’s when for 
an instant they showed a haunting gleam of fear. 

44 You can do nothing — nothing to help me. I 
must be going,” she said, brokenly. 44 But I have 
one more request. I’d like you to come to an in¬ 
formal affair at the house tomorrow evening. It 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


127 


was hurriedly arranged — from necessity. Aside 
from that, it’s wrong to ask you, I know. But — 
but I feel as if I must have one true friend there to 
give me the courage to go through with it — ” 

“ I’ll come, gladly,” Jack interposed. 

“ It’s probably the last time you’ll see me — 
that you’ll want to see me, even,” Rita said. “ If 
you knew the details, you’d despise me.” 

Jack took a step toward her. But the girl was 
already at the door. Safely across the threshold, 
she turned and smiled back at him, wistfully. 

64 Good-by — and I’ll expect you tomorrow 
night. But, please!—for my sake — don’t ever 
ask me to explain.” 

Reese stood clutching the door knob for a long 
time after the lights of the girl’s motor had melted 
into the night. What tragic crisis confronted her, 
he pondered, that could bring her to him with these 
incoherent half-confidences? How much of her 
brother’s trouble was she familiar with? What 
had she learned of the true nature of Barton Kline 
that could cause her to reverse her opinion of the 
unhappy affray at Pinto Springs? And what, 
above all, was the significance of the party tomor¬ 
row night that must end their reestablished friend¬ 
ship? 


CHAPTER XII 


During the first day’s work on the Reese-De- 
jeans motor, Jack made one pleasing find: that the 
assistance of the two mechanics Marcel had hired 
more than doubled the progress the partners could 
have made alone. This was due to the fact that 
four men, working in conjunction, could eliminate 
much waste motion and duplication of labor. Also 
it expedited the assembling of part units. 

Reese was entirely satisfied, too, that these new 
employees were trustworthy. They were family 
men who had worked under him in the Corbin plant 
for years, industrious and content. But with his 
leaving, they had found Barton Kline’s autocratic 
ways too oppressive for their sturdy independence. 
And though they made no active display of their 
dislike for the plant manager, the fact that they 
had already resigned their positions when Marcel 
found them sufficiently indicated their small regard 
for Corbin’s chief executive. 

But Jack found little enough satisfaction in all 
this. Even though he worked unflaggingly with 
the others to get the motor completed in record 
time, his wonted enthusiasm, except for rare flashes, 
refused to return to him. He was glum and unre¬ 
sponsive. The day seemed interminable as it 
lagged along to the quitting hour. And even then 
he all but reduced Mother McGuire to tears by his 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 129 

desultory appreciation of her care in pressing his 
Tuxedo. 

66 The lad ain’t himself at all, at all,” she con¬ 
fided to Marcel in the privacy of the kitchen after 
supper. 66 Whin I handed him his suit, he only 
says, 6 Thank ye, Mither, it looks very nice,’ and 
traipses on up to his room like he was in wan o’ 
thim weejie trances.” 

The little Frenchman sighed ecstatically and 
threw a kiss ceilingward. 

“ Love! It ees love, Madame, zat can make 
even ze strongest man weak!” He pressed a half- 
dried saucer to his heart and sidled closer. 66 Me, 
even me it ’as made seek — ” 

But Mother McGuire refused all sympathy for 
ills so induced. 

66 So ’tis sick ye be, eh!” she said. 64 Shure, 
thin, a spoonful o’ castor ile’ll fix ye both up like 
new!” 

Jack’s preoccupation, however, was not a result 
of any lovelorn meditation. He was worried about 
Rita. The questions he had put to himself late last 
night still remained unanswered. Whatever the 
causes of the girl’s strange agitation — fear, even 
— they continued an insolvable mystery to him. 
But somehow he felt certain that the solution would 
be found connected in some way with the sinister 
machinations of Barton Kline. The plant manager 
had betrayed a violent jealousy at Pinto Springs. 
Or was it only the man’s ugly hatred of any one 
who blocked the path of his ambition? Jack won- 


130 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


dered. Or was it possible that Kline had spread 
his web of intrigue to entangle Rita along with her 
brother? But that was absurd. The girl was too 
high-spirited, too courageous, to bow to the sheer 
will of any man. And no skein of circumstance 
could entangle her as it had young Gordon. She 
was as good and innocent as a Madonna. What, 
then? 

Reese was still in a maze of baffling conjecture 
when he arrived at the Corbin home. He found 
that most of the small gathering of guests had 
already arrived — including Barton Kline! And 
several of the others seemed to be Kline’s friends 
particularly, rather than Rita’s. A fast, blase 
crowd for the most part, Jack summed them up 
quickly, and not at all of the type customarily 
admitted to Rita Corbin’s hospitality. Boon com¬ 
panions of Gordon’s in the past, perhaps, but he 
was not present now. 

Rita could spare only a moment for Jack in the 
beginning. Her duties as hostess prevented any 
intimate talk between them. And he sensed that 
this was somehow a relief to her. But her hand 
pressed his tightly in their first greeting; and her 
eyes, dropping their mask of happiness for the 
shortest space, conveyed the silent message that she 
was glad because of his comforting presence. 

Reese gave up all effort to solve the mystery. It 
was beyond him. Each new development was con¬ 
tradictory to the last. For one thing, Kline’s being 
here — Jack and he had already exchanged curt 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


131 


nods — was certainly inconsistent with Rita’s ac¬ 
knowledgment of her mistake at Pinto Springs. 
Then there was to be explained the presence of 
persons quite out of tone with the girl’s liking in 
general. 

But the most amazing of all was the occurrence 
next to take place. Rita had absented herself from 
the room momentarily to usher in a belated guest. 
Standing more or less aloof at the far end of the 
drawing room, Jack caught only fugitive glimpses 
of the newcomer as she was first being introduced 
around. Yet there was something oddly familiar 
about her. Her voice, heard fleetingly, stirred a 
vague response in his memory. 

Reese was the last to be presented. As Rita 
brought the girl up, he turned fully toward them. 
It was the only time he had ever seen the charming 
face of the tardy guest in a full light, but he recog¬ 
nized it instantly. His mind for a moment refused 
to function clearly, overtaxed with a flood of un¬ 
answerable questions. The newcomer was the 
lone motorist who had tearfully appealed to him 
to “repair” her Corbin sedan; Massey’s accom¬ 
plice; Gordon Corbin’s inamorata; the woman 
whom Barton Kline had referred to as Dolly Lan- 
don! It remained only for Rita’s constrained 
introduction to absolutely verify the fact. 

“Miss Landon and I have met before, I be¬ 
lieve,” Jack managed to respond evenly. 

Dolores Landon’s rich lips bent downward in a 
mocking smile. 


132 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


“ Yes, indeed,” she admitted, surprisingly. “ I 
can never forget your gallant rescue on that dark, 
if not stormy, night, Mr. Reese!” 

Sam Massey’s fair accomplice was entirely sure 
of herself, that much was evident; she knew that 
Reese’s uncertain evidence could not bring her foul 
of the law. Jack followed her with his eyes while 
she captivated more than one male heart. But he 
noted also that her glance sought out Barton Kline 
whenever possible, studying him thoughtfully — 
almost broodingly. At such times her carefree 
pose showed itself as a thin veneer over deeper 
emotions — emotions sad and tinged with bitter¬ 
ness. 

Jack wondered if she was in love with the plant 
manager. If so, he perceived that her love was 
a thing that could change to an unreasoning hatred. 
In her eyes lurked a hint of fiery passions easily 
unbridled, and magnificent though they were, their 
shallow vanity showed her capable of no great sac¬ 
rifice — nor of condonement to one unfaithful. 
The butterfly might easily become the tigress. 
And Reese was grimly aware that Barton Kline, 
if he had cultivated Dolly Landon’s affection only 
to use her as a catspaw, might find that paw 
finally to be barbed with lacerating talons. 

However, Rita was naturally the object of most 
of Jack’s regard. She played the adroit hostess 
to perfection. She threw herself into the merry¬ 
making with an abandon new to Reese. Yet while 
she danced with every other, she evaded him. 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


133 


Time and again she marooned him with a partner 
just as he was hoping to have a word with her 
alone. So he gave over the attempt, knowing it 
to be her wish. 

Until supper he danced with whatever partner 
that chance offered: with a Greenwich Village 
importee who confessed herself 66 dry as a cork 
leg ” and who waxed indignant that he had 66 noth¬ 
ing on the hip ”; with a Hollywood film star whose 
widow’s weeds were still verdant after a short 
46 residence ” in Reno; with Dolores Landon. And 
it was this last whom he escorted into the dining 
room when supper was announced. Rita, he noted, 
went in with Barton Kline. 

At each place was a small engraved card. But 
Jack was among the last to read his. Assisting 
Dolly Landon to be seated, he was at a loss to 
understand the shrill congratulations, accompanied 
by the boisterous waving of cards, that were 
showered first on Rita Corbin, then on Barton 
Kline. Even then he did not grasp the significance 
of it all. He picked up his own card curiously. 

44 Betrothed!” 

The card crumpled into a formless ball beneath 
his clenching fingers. His senses seemed to reel, 
then to fuse into a white-hot wave of utter repulsion. 
The enigma was explained at last — enough of it, 
at least, for the present. Now he knew the reason 
for Rita’s distraction, her need of a 44 true friend,” 
for the choice of this unusual gathering of Kline’s 
acquaintances to grace the occasion. The little 


134 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


oblong slip of cardboard — a 44 rush ” job from all 
appearances — had for its purpose the announce¬ 
ment of Rita’s engagement to the plant manager! 

Jack quickly realized, however, that he could not 
make himself conspicuous by slighting the formali¬ 
ties, however difficult they were for him, prescribed 
for such an event. Rita could not love the plant 
manager, of course, after her disconnected plea of 
last night; some overwhelming pressure must have 
been brought to bear on her to earn her consent. 
And Kline had a transparent gain to reap from 
the match. But whatever the conflicting motives 
behind the misalliance, whatever Reese’s unfal¬ 
tering determination to prevent its consummation, 
he saw that he would only make Rita’s position 
more unbearable and direct suspicion toward him¬ 
self by refusing to offer some sort of a congratu¬ 
lation. So he pressed a way to Rita’s side, offered 
his felicitations briefly to the pale girl, nodded to 
Kline, and returned to the edge of the circle sur¬ 
rounding the engaged couple. 

He started at a light touch on his arm. Turning, 
he found Dolly Landon standing beside him. Her 
petulant lips were smiling, but her whispered words 
came with the impact of so many blows. 

64 Well, what are you going to do about it, 
Mr. Brave-Man-From-Overseas? Are you going to 
let him get away with it? Are you quitting?” 

Jack bent toward her. 

“No, I’m not!” he replied guardedly but in¬ 
tensely. 46 1 don’t know where you stand in this 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


135 


situation, Miss Landon, nor do I care particularly 
right now; and you can tell Kline my answer if you 
want. Here it is: Rather than permit him to marry 
Rita Corbin, I’d shoot him dead!” 

Dolly Landon silently beckoned him to return 
to the table with her, betraying no alarm — satis¬ 
faction, rather — at his rash statement. One or 
two of the other guests had already resumed their 
places at the other end of the festive board, so 
their action could pass unremarked. But the girl 
was too shrewd — too fearful, perhaps, of Kline’s 
wrath should he once suspect her intention — to be 
satisfied with this one precaution. Her laughter 
trilled out. 

66 And I thought you were so sensible, Mr. 
Reese!” she derided. Her voice lowered again 
after this disarming outburst. She continued, hur¬ 
riedly: “ Don’t be a fool! I can help you out in 
this. You want Miss Corbin-” 

44 And whatever made you suppose that?” Jack 
queried, startled. 

Dolly Landon shrugged impatiently. 

44 Two and two make four, don’t they? And I’ve 
been watching you all evening. You’re a punk 
actor.” 

66 But what do you expect to gain by assisting 
me?” he asked. 66 You have your own interests 
at stake somehow, I assume.” 

44 I have.” Dolly Landon’s reply was curt and 
resentful. 64 1 don’t like Miss Corbin. I — I hate 
her. Bart lied to me about her. Since seeing 



136 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


her for the first time tonight, I’ve decided it won’t 
suit me at all to have him marry her — even for 
a while-” 

46 For a while?” Jack’s eyes narrowed. 

66 That’s the low down of it, yes,” the girl re¬ 
sponded coolly. Her semblance of refinement and 
education dropped from her in her anger. 66 But 
that’s neither here nor there. I only told you that 
to prove I’m on the level with you. And if you 
really want to cross up this business, meet me 
tomorrow noon at the address I’ll slip you before 
I leave tonight. I’ll decide on a safe place mean¬ 
while. I’ll give you a straight lead to work on 
then, and the address of a photographer in town 

where I wouldn’t dare go myself-” She 

paused, her eyelids flickering in warning. 

Reese nodded, smiling, and turned away casu¬ 
ally. But in passing he encountered the intent 
glance of Barton Kline, questioning, suspicious and 
sinister. But at that moment a servant intruded 
between them, apologetically asking the plant man¬ 
ager if he wished to answer an urgent telephone 
call. 

Kline returned shortly to make his excuses for 
an immediate departure. 

44 I’m sorry indeed, but it’s imperative,” he said 
regretfully. 44 One of the plant’s eastern repre¬ 
sentatives has just arrived on the Limited from 
Detroit, confound him. And it looks as though 
I’m slated for an all-night session with him, if he’s 
to catch the morning train out. And yet some 




THE CHECKERED FLAG 


137 


people say I have an easy job!” He said his good- 
bys around the table, stopping last beside Rita. 
He held out his hand to her, and her fingers flut¬ 
tered uncertainly into his stubby clasp. 

44 What’s the matter, Bart?” some one laughed. 
46 Is it out of fashion to kiss your fiancee good-by? 
You’re among friends, you know!” 

The cry was taken up in a bantering chorus, 
lacking only the voices of Reese and Dolly Landon. 
Jack looked around the table furiously, then 
quickly back to Barton Kline. The plant manager 
was smiling, but his eyes were fastened almost 
commandingly on Rita, who had shrunk back, her 
face flaming. 

46 Well, if it’s a dare!” Kline laughed, holding 
out his arms to the frightened girl. Slowly, like a 
jungle bird under the hypnotic spell of a serpent, 
she drew closer to him. His arms reached out 
eagerly to enfold her. 

Jack shoved back his chair preparatory to rising. 
His fists were clenched, his eyes blazing. But an 
interruption from another source, scarcely less 
effective than his intended one, allowed his action 
to go unnoticed. A glass crashed to the floor. All 
eyes focused there. 

Dolly Landon had fainted. 


CHAPTER XIII 


Barton Kline, his close-set eyes blinking 
rapidly as an only indication of any repressed 
emotion, took charge of the situation brusquely. 
He gathered the limp form into his arms and 
quietly suggested to Rita that she lead the way to a 
bedroom. 

64 It’s nothing to be alarmed about at all,” he told 
the guests. 66 No need to call a doctor, even. Miss 
Landon often has these spells. A slight heart dis¬ 
order, you know. But she’ll be herself again in 
five minutes.” 

The plant manager returned downstairs almost 
at once. He was smiling. 

46 Just as I thought. Miss Landon is able to sit 
up already. She’ll be the life of the party again 
before supper’s over.” He glanced at his watch, 
and waved a hurried farewell. 44 I’m devilish sorry 
to have to desert this way, but I’ll promise to make 
amends next time.” 

But Dolly Landon did not rejoin the supper 
party. Rita returned to the dining-room alone, 
shortly after Kline had left, explaining that the 
ill girl had insisted on being left in the care of a 
maid only; she wished to rest quietly for a time, 
but would be down later if she felt able. 

The supper proceeded lugubriously. Dolores 
Landon’s illness had dampened the high spirits of 
138 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


139 


the gathering. And Kline’s absence was another 
cause for general discomfort. Excepting Jack, the 
guests were the plant manager’s friends, not Rita’s; 
and lacking his presence, a sense of constraint 
quickly developed. Rita did her best to be enter¬ 
taining, but her somber eyes belied her smile. 
Only the Maestro Leonardo — he who left Mona 
Lisa to the world — could have faithfully recorded 
that paradoxical and poignant expression. 

By ones and twos the guests departed. There 
was no lingering over the demi-tasses; no gather¬ 
ing into little intimate groups to prolong an evening 
enjoyably spent. It was as if the atmosphere of 
quiet refinement about the Corbin home, Rita’s 
superior breeding, had suddenly impressed them¬ 
selves on Barton Kline’s friends. At least the sub¬ 
dued manner of their leavetaking conveyed such 
an impression to Reese. 

He was left alone with Rita in the otherwise 
deserted reception hall. For a long moment they 
stood staring at one another in silence. Then: 

“ What in the name of heaven ever made you 
do this mad thing, Rita?” Characteristically, Jack 
drove straight at the heart of the question. 

“ What mad thing?” the girl countered, smiling 
wearily. 

“ Engaging yourself to Barton Kline! To a man 
you can’t possibly love, whom you can’t even 
respect. A traitor to his employer, a blackmailer, 
a thief!” 

Rita held up her hand in a pitiful gesture. 


140 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


66 Jack — please don’t. Please leave me. Don’t 
ask me to explain. I can’t. I won’t. You can’t 
help me in any way. And you’re making it harder 
for me — can’t you see? I must — I’m going to 
marry him!” 

66 You’re not!” Jack cried fiercely. 66 You’re not 
going to marry him, Rita.” He grasped her hands 
and forced her to face him. His voice softened. 
66 You must confide in me. You can’t go it all 
alone, girl. You’re in trouble. Kline’s holding 
something over you, I’d be blind if I didn’t see that. 
And I want to help you. You must tell me what 
it is.” His voice hardened again. 44 Tell me, or 
I’ll go to Kline and beat the truth out of him with 
my fists!” 

Rita was looking up at him. Their eyes met, 
clashed. Suddenly the girl collapsed against him, 
the last remnant of her composure gone. She 
buried her face against his shoulder, sobbing 
brokenly. 

44 It’s Gordon — my brother!” came the muffled 
admission. 44 He’s in terrible trouble — threatened 
with disgrace. It would break my father’s heart 
if he knew!” 

44 Your father knows nothing at all about Gor¬ 
don’s trouble? Your brother asked you to keep 
this from him?” 

44 Dad knows nothing about it. He mustn’t know 
or suspect — ever!” the girl cried. 44 Gordon drove 
him up to San Francisco yesterday to attend some 
sort of a business conference. They’ll be back 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


141 


tomorrow. Before leaving, my brother asked me 
to warn you about — about spending that money 
he loaned you. He warned me against Barton 
Kline, too, but that was all I could get out of him. 

44 Then — in the afternoon — Barton called on 
me. He told me the facts about Gordon’s — pre¬ 
dicament. He was horrible! He threatened my 
brother with disgrace and imprisonment unless — 
unless I’d marry him. He demanded that our en¬ 
gagement be announced at once, before Dad and 
Gordon got back. I had to consent, don’t you 
see?” She drew free from Reese’s arms with new 
determination. 66 And I’ll go through with it, too. 
It’s the only way.” 

Jack accompanied her into the drawing room, 
sitting down opposite her on a divan. 

66 I’m not so sure it’s the only way,” he said 
thoughtfully. 46 Kline is bluffing. I can’t tell you 
how I happen to know, Rita, but I’m positive of it. 
Kline traded your brother the only evidence he had 
against him — the only evidence that would stand 
in court — for my note for ten thousand dol¬ 
lars-” 

66 He did. He admitted that.” Rita shook her 
head hopelessly. 64 But you don’t know how cun¬ 
ning Barton Kline is. He had that — that evi¬ 
dence photographed before he gave it up to 
Gordon! He offered to take me to his home and 
show me the copy. And he insisted that I invite 
that woman — Miss Landon — as a guest tonight. 
He wanted to hold her over me as an additional 



142 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


threat, I presume, in case I weakened in going 
through with it.” 

Reese jumped to his feet. 

44 You must let me have a talk with Miss Landon 
at once — if her condition permits,” he said, pur¬ 
posefully. 64 She’s our last hope, but she can help 
you, I’m sure. And she wants to. She’s already 
told me that. If I’m not very much mistaken, she’s 
infatuated with Kline. God knows why! But 
that’s her reason.” 

Jack’s thoughts were racing as he followed Rita 
up the stairway. Dolly Landon knew about the 
copying of the original hotel register, he theorized. 
She had spoken to him of a photographer in Tres 
Arroyos to whom she would direct him. Evidently 
something of value was to be gained there. She 
most likely had all the details of Kline’s scheme 
at her finger tips; the plant manager would have 
told her to assuage her jealous suspicions. More¬ 
over, in planning the meeting for tomorrow, she 
had appeared most sanguine. Was it too far¬ 
fetched to hope that she had some means of access 
to Kline’s private papers? Might she not somehow 
have discovered the combination to Kline’s safe, 
where he would doubtless keep the incriminating 
copy? 

Reese’s theories came to grief here. They butted 
into a solid wall of fact. Kline, to all appearances, 
was still unaware of the loss of the motor plans 
from his safe at the time of his hasty departure 
from the Corbin home. But the 44 plant representa- 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


143 


tive from Detroit ” with whom he had gone to 
consult, must assuredly be the 46 dummy ” inventor 
who was to take the drawings east for patenting. 
By now, the plant manager would have discovered 
the safe robbery. And finding his strong box not 
as impregnable as he had supposed, his first step 
would naturally be to remove the evidence against 
Gordon Corbin to a more secure repository. 

Rita knocked gently on the door of the bedroom 
into which Dolly Landon had been taken. A 
second maid, stupid enough in appearance, 
answered the summons. 

66 Please ask Miss Landon if Mr. Reese may 
come in to see her for a moment,” Rita requested. 

The servant looked her surprise. 

66 Why, don’t you know, Miss Rita?” she asked. 
66 Mr. Kline said you did. He came up by the 
tradesmen’s entrance and carried the lady down 
the back stairs to his machine. He said she 
wanted to see a doctor at once but didn’t wish to 
alarm the other guests. They went a good half- 
hour ago.” 

Rita and Jack went slowly down the stairs. The 
latter was in a brown study. His last hope had 
come a cropper. But he did not tell the girl that. 

64 Don’t worry, Rita,” he encouraged, as he put 
on his overcoat. 44 1 won’t give up on this until 
the last man’s hung. And Miss Landon gave me a 
hint or two that I can follow without her help. I 
think I’ll have something encouraging to report to 
you tomorrow. At the worst, I believe I know how 


144 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


I can convince Kline of the error of his ways-” 

Rita drew close. A newly awakened fear showed 
in her troubled eyes. 

66 You won’t do anything desperate, Jack!” she 
begged. 64 Promise me that. I won’t let you sacri¬ 
fice yourself-” 

44 1 won’t do anything any other man wouldn’t 

do, who — who-” He stopped. Rita was 

very close to him. Her slender fingers were still 
clenched about his coat lapels, where she had 
placed them in her intense effort to wring a promise 
from him that would mean his safety. In her eyes 
was a dawning understanding of all that he had 
stopped short of saying. Nor did she draw away 
from him. 

It was a bitter-sweet moment Jack would never 
forget. He knew now that Dolly Landon, with her 
penetrating woman’s intuition, had been right. He 
wanted Rita Corbin — wanted her more than all 
the world. It was no longer enough to worship her 
at a distance. He wanted her love — wanted to 
protect her and shield her and fight for her always. 
But it was not fair to trade on her emotions now, 
her leaning on his greater strength in an emer¬ 
gency. And he had not the right to ask her to 
marry a man in his present dubious circumstances. 

44 I’ll be careful,” he resumed quietly. 44 You 
needn’t worry on that score, Rita. And I’ll call you 
up tomorrow to let you know how things are going. 
Or I’ll drop in to see you if my news is especially 
good. In the meantime, cheerio! as the English 





THE CHECKERED FLAG 145 

say. We’ll have this muddle straightened out in 
jig time.” 

In the morning Jack started to follow up the 
single positive clue Dolly Landon had given him. 
From it, during the night, he had made several 
deductions — pieced together with what illuminat¬ 
ing information Rita had supplied: Barton Kline 
had had the hotel register sheet photographed. 
But, reasoning from Dolly Landon’s remark, it 
seemed probable that Kline had left the dupli¬ 
cating plate with the photographer who had done 
the work. That was the only solution Jack could 
find for the chance hint of Kline’s accomplice. 
And such a procedure would be quite in keeping 
with the plant manager’s crafty ways. He would 
know that if things came to a showdown — if 
Joel Corbin’s fighting spirit were finally enlisted 
to save his son’s reputation — a determined 
effort would be made to gain possession of the 
incriminating evidence. So by such an obvious 
— and therefore unsuspected — precaution, he 
could keep the whip hand regardless of eventuality. 

Consulting a directory, Jack found that there 
were two established photographers in Tres 
Arroyos. But he met with signal failure on his 
visit to the first. In answer to a direct question, 
he was told pointedly that a customer’s commission 
was never discussed with unauthorized people. 

That taught Reese a valuable lesson. In his next 
attempt, he employed a subterfuge. He took a 
business letter from his pocket on entering the 


146 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


dingy premises of Carl Pfeffer, 64 Expert Photogra¬ 
pher,” and gave it over to the old German pro¬ 
prietor for inspection. 

44 Can you make a clear photograph of that for 
me?” he asked. 44 Or don’t you handle that sort 
of difficult work?” 

Pfeffer squinted at the sheet for an interminable 
time. Jack’s heart dropped when it was returned 
to him. 

44 1 haf in der pigsher business been for forty 
years,” the German vouchsafed, with cutting dig¬ 
nity. 44 1 am an exbert photographer. I gan 
maker der duplicate — aber it will cost you five 
taler. It iss not so easy.” 

Reese considered dubiously. 

44 But have you ever done any similar work? 
I’m in a hurry and it’s important. I can’t afford 
to have the work bungled.” 

Pfeffer dropped his spectacles in his agitation 
over this insult to his ability. 

44 Bungled! Carl Pfeffer iss no bungler, young 
mans!” Furiously he turned on his heel and 
ducked under the frayed curtain that divided off 
his 44 studio ” from his living quarters. He flung 
back into the room brandishing two exposed photo¬ 
graphic plates. 44 There — und there!” he cried 
pridefully, shoving them to Reese belligerently. 
44 Look at them! Iss that bungling, hey?” 

Jack’s hands trembled as he held the second of 
the plates up to the light. Over its surface, he saw 
quickly, was stenciled a long row of names and 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


147 


addresses. And near the center, on two succeeding 
lines, he recognized the same bold chirography 
in which Gordon Corbin had written the agreement 
two days before and signed a check for ten thou¬ 
sand dollars! 

Without asking permission, Jack stepped out 
onto the sidewalk. There he held the plate up to 
the sun as if he wished to study its merits in a 
better light. But out of the corner of an eye he 
furtively watched an approaching pedestrian. As 
the man came even with him, Jack stepped for¬ 
ward — still with his eyes upturned to the nega¬ 
tive. The two figures collided heavily. Reese 
stumbled back, half off his balance. The plate 
flew from his fingers and crashed down on the 
cement in irreparable splinters! 

It was easier to mollify the German than Jack 
had anticipated. A fulsome praise of the ruined 
plate, coupled with cash payment for the new 
order, completely restored Carl Pfeffer’s good 
humor. 

66 It iss nothing,” he said. 46 Der customer has 
der one copy which he ordered. Und he told me to 
throw away der plate in a month if he came not 
back. It has alretty one week been. If he comes 
back, I will hoomer him by dupligating from der 
copy. But maybeso you should pay me for that, 
hey?” he suggested keenly. 

Jack handed over another five dollars to salve 
his conscience for the deception, and drove back 
home. He had been far more successful than he 


148 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


had dared hope. He had destroyed the duplicating 
plate; he had discovered that Kline had only a 
single print from the negative. It would be diffi¬ 
cult to obtain that, of course, but not necessarily 
impossible. There were ways, he reflected grimly, 
of breaking even the stubborn will of the plant 
manager. 

On this point, he decided to consult with Marcel. 
He was determined to go it alone in the matter, 
but the little Apache might have some valuable 
pointers to offer. It had been so in the past. 

He called Dejeans from his work on the motor 
and took him up to the privacy of his bedroom to 
explain the situation. But the diminutive French¬ 
man listened only until he got the gist of the mat¬ 
ter. Then, of a sudden, he was darting around the 
room like a madman. He rumpled his hair and 
wrung his hands. 

44 Sacre damn!” he moaned. 64 Sacre, sacre 
damn! Ees it zat I am nevair to get even wiz 
Corbin? Ees it zat I must lose t’irty t’ousand dol- 
lairs?” He darted into his room, returning with 
a smudged envelope, which he slit open with his 
stiletto. With a magnificent gesture of resigna¬ 
tion he handed one of the papers it contained to his 
partner. 

44 Ten t’ousand!” he counted dramatically. 

Mouth agape, Jack stared at the document in 
dumfounded wonder. It was the note he had 
signed for Gordon Corbin’s loan! On the back 
it bore a transfer to Barton Kline. 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 149 

“ Twenty t’ousand more!” Marcel laid down 
the second paper. 

It took but a hasty glance for Jack to realize its 
import. With a wild cry of elation, he flung his 
arms around Marcel’s shoulders. 

66 You damned little go-getter, you!” he kept re¬ 
peating. “ You damned little go-getter! How did 
you ever happen to do it?” 

Dejeans explained brazenly, not without pride 
of a sort. It appeared that he had felt urged to 
try conclusions with Barton Kline’s safe a second 
time in order to recover the dangerous agreement 
Jack had signed. He had done this the night fol¬ 
lowing Gordon’s visit to Reese. In searching for 
the note, he had run across the copy of the hotel 
register sheet. And it had struck him that this 
offered him an excellent means of bringing to time 
Gordon Corbin, who had called him a Paris gutter 
rat. Not to mention the twenty thousand dollars 
Corbin had bid for it, which could be used to 
admirable advantage in the promotion of the Reese- 
Dejeans motor! 

66 But now — pouf!” he finished, with a sigh 
of resignation. “ It ees for you to decide, Jacques. 
Zose t’irty t’ousand dollairs — zey are my gift to 
you!” 


CHAPTER XIV 


Perhaps the announcement of the severance of 
the Corbin-Kline engagement — following the be¬ 
trothal party, as it did, by a scant twenty-four hours 
— was news worthy of the space and speculation 
accorded it by society editors throughout southern 
California. But to the inhabitants of Tres Arroyos 
at large, who depended largely on Corbin Motors 
for their well being, this yielded the palm in inter¬ 
est to the simultaneous announcement of Barton 
Kline’s resignation as plant manager. 

To Jack, however, possessed of certain 46 inside ” 
information which none of those concerned had 
seen fit to hand on to the gentlemen of the press, a 
third satisfying development was known—one with 
an additional happy significance. At last the 
younger Corbin had asserted the latent manhood 
within him, and in a positive, convincing manner. 
Returning home from San Francisco with his father 
while Jack was explaining to Rita the fortunate 
turn events had taken during that morning, Gordon 
had broken in on them already armed with the 
knowledge of his sister’s engagement. He had 
surmised its motive, and demanded explanations. 
Reese gave him the truth, with no mincing of words. 
And the boy, finally alive to the despicable part he 
had played, promptly took Reese to his father and 
made full confession to them both, sparing nothing. 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


151 


It was a painful and pitiful scene to Jack, 
seeing Joel Corbin’s pride in his only son die in a 
silent agony that was worse than reproach. The 
old land baron could have forgiven Gordon any¬ 
thing — anything except an admitted cowardice. 
There seemed no possible way of condoning that. 

Then, happily or unhappily, according to the 
point of view of the various participants in what 
followed, Barton Kline arrived at that juncture to 
pay his respects to his betrothed. He was nattily 
attired in a new spring suit, and bore a florist’s 
box of American Beauty roses — a passing inspira¬ 
tion — to present to the object of his dubious 
affections. Probably he had not as yet discovered 
Carl Pfeffer’s first 66 bungle,” even had he knowl¬ 
edge of what was missing from his safe. He 
appeared entirely sure of himself. 

Some ten minutes later he was permitted to 
depart from the Corbin billiard room — where he 
had accompanied Jack and Gordon not without 
remonstrance. He departed minus several more or 
less idle threats, his necktie and one wing of his 
collar, a few stray bits of cuticle about the face, 
and his position as the Corbin plant’s chief execu¬ 
tive; not to mention his expectation of marrying 
Rita in good time! He retained most of his new 
suit, all of the American Beauty roses, and under 
his right eye what in fistic circles is sometimes 
designated as a 66 mouse.” His sedan might have 
been observed driving rather rapidly from the 
porte-cochere. 


152 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


Gordon Corbin, in almost equal disrepair, lay on 
the billiard table, grinning and gasping for breath, 
while his father patched him up with court plaster 
and styptic collodion. Old Joel, sinfully pleased, 
disguised a reborn pride in the boy as best he could 
under a gruff criticism of Gordon’s unpolished — 
if expeditious — pugilistic style. 

Reese tiptoed from the room not to disturb the 
freshly realized ties which bound father and son 
together once more. He bade a hurried good-by 
to Rita, deprecating her gratitude almost brusquely. 
He was sorrowfully aware that this further cause 
for intimacy between them must actually become a 
reason for increased restraint on his part. And, 
despite Rita’s hurt expression, he told himself as 
he drove away that he had done the right thing. 
By helping as best he could in the emergency, he 
had no more than repaid Rita and her father for 
their many kindnesses to him. And only the suc¬ 
cess of the Reese-Dejeans motor — not through 
making capital of the Corbins’ gratitude — could 
ever permit him to tell Rita what his whole being, 
excepting his sturdy independence, demanded of 
him. 

Jack returned to the making of the motor with a 
clear conscience. He had mailed his note for ten 
thousand dollars back to the plant manager in a 
typewriter-addressed envelope. That was a moral 
obligation, he felt, inasmuch as Gordon had told 
him that Kline had reimbursed him the amount of 
the loan. As for Kline’s accusation that Reese had 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


153 


robbed his safe — delivered in the Corbin billiard 
room — Jack stood in no fear of recourse being 
taken of the law. And he had noted that there 
had been no accompanying mention of what valu¬ 
ables were stolen. That transaction, along with 
Gordon’s blundering attempt on the same night, 
would reflect equally on Kline now that there were 
several corroborative witnesses to the ex-plant 
manager’s illegal methods. 

The Reese-Dejeans Special was completed in an 
amazingly short time — considering the character 
of the workmanship that went into it. Wherever 
possible the motor parts were hand-tooled. No 
labor was spared to make the most insignificant and 
unimportant unit a thing of strength and perfection. 
And the inventions Jack and Marcel had worked 
so long to perfect tremendously increased the 
efficiency of the car, an efficiency new to the auto¬ 
motive world. Engineers had experimented in 
vain to contrive a successful non-friction bearing; 
the Reese-Dejeans had that. Textbooks were 
unanimous in declaring it impossible to fuse cop¬ 
per and iron in a commercial way; the Reese- 
Dejeans had a copper cylinder jacket which gave 
radiation efficiency equaling or bettering the stand¬ 
ard set by water-cooled systems. Running twenty- 
four hours steadily at high speed in an initial test 
in the workshop, the motor was not unduly heated. 

Jack had already sent in his entry for the Girard 
Cup Race. This event, run under the sanction of 
the A. A. A., was to be of five hundred miles 


154 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


duration, and was open to any driver capable of 
qualifying on the Capri Track at ninety miles an 
hour. The Special’s piston displacement was under 
the maximum allowed, and the gear ratio was 
sufficient to hurl it along at well over a hundred 
miles an hour — if the motor held such propelling 
power. 

Remained only to prove that to be a fact, to 
prove that and to get the 66 feel ” of the car through 
driving it. For racing cars have idiosyncrasies no 
less individual than ships; in their ranks they have 
likewise their 66 killers,” their hard-luck 66 hoo¬ 
doos,” and their unresponsive steering gears. So, 
after limbering up the motor for several days in 
the workshop, Jack and Dejeans drove the car out 
to the deserted highway early one morning to try 
it out. 

For miles the smooth concrete extended up the 
coast in an unbroken straightaway; an ideal testing 
ground. In the gray dawn there were none to watch 
and no motorists to be endangered. Jack gradu¬ 
ally increased the flow of gasoline. The racer, 
resplendent in a fresh finish of maroon paint and 
new tires, purred into a greater speed without a 
vibration to mark the change. Marcel held a stop 
watch ready and kept on the lookout for the start¬ 
ing point of a two-mile dash, previously measured 
off. 

66 Ready!” he shrilled. 

Like a thing alive, the racer picked up mo¬ 
mentum. Under Jack’s guidance it held the road 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


155 


perfectly, literally seeming to float along. In a 
minute and thirty seconds by the watch the finish 
marker was passed. Marcel made a rapid compu¬ 
tation, and shook his head disappointedly. 

“ Not so good,” he said. 66 Only eighty miles 
an hour.” 

Reese laughed exultantly. 

66 1 didn’t dare to let it out this first time. It 
may be a little stiff yet. And we have plenty of 
time to burn up our rubber before we go north 
for the race. But she’ll roll with the best of ’em, 
Marcel. She’s a traveling fool! With ordinary 
luck, we’ll show a clean pair of heels to the field 
at the Capri Track. I’d stake my life on it.” 

The tests continued morning after morning. It 
was only natural that some slight defects should 
develop; but none of these reflected on the sterling 
quality of the motor. The spring suspension was 
modified slightly. The oiling system was improved 
in one or two minor details to safeguard the extreme 
demands of track racing. And the Reese-Dejeans 
Special, thus bettered, continued to course over the 
two-mile dash in the gray light of dawn with 
ever-increasing speed. Marcel’s stop watch indi¬ 
cated a speed of one hundred and ten miles per 
hour on the last of a week’s trials. And still the 
motor held a reserve power far in excess of com¬ 
petitive requirements. A pace of two miles a 
minute, steadily maintained, would take the 
checkered flag from the fleetest car ever seen on 
a track, Jack told Dejeans. 


156 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


46 But we’ll let it out tomorrow,” he said. 44 I’m 
just kid enough to be curious how it feels to travel 
over the ground at two miles a minute or better. 
And it’ll be our last chance before we drive up to 
the track.” 

It was Reese’s desire to be on hand at the Capri 
Speedway in advance of the other entrants, if pos¬ 
sible. He wanted to gain confidence and experi¬ 
ence on the banked mile and a quarter bowl well 
before even the qualifying laps had to be run. 
That was simple prudence, even though his invalu¬ 
able training as pilot of a combat plane had taught 
him the ultimate of speed and the last word in 
quick-witted maneuvering. 

That afternoon Jack went to the Tres Arroyos 
Bank and withdrew the last of his capital in the 
form of a cashier’s check. He intended to deposit 
it again in a San Francisco bank when he went 
north and draw more handily from there to defray 
the expense of a pit crew and race-replacements. 

As he left the bank, he encountered Barton 
Kline. He would have preferred to avoid the man, 
but the other was patently waiting for him; and to 
have ignored the suave salutation might have been 
construed as arising from fear or a sense of guilt. 
Inasmuch as Jack felt neither, he stopped and 
waited for the other to come up. 

44 1 understand you’ve entered a car in the Girard 
Cup Race, Reese,” Kline began briskly, with no 
hint of remaining animosity because of their recent 
differences. 44 Is that true?” 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


157 


“ It is.” Jack spoke constrainedly. 46 You know 
where you stand in my estimation, I presume, 
Kline. So I don’t suppose you’re questioning me 
out of idle curiosity.” 

44 You’re a very astute young man.” 

44 Well?” 

Barton Kline put another question for answer: 
44 Are you seriously counting on finishing in the 
money?” 

44 Certainly. I’d be a fool to enter if I didn’t 
think I had a chance of placing.” 

44 First place?” 

44 Possibly.” 

44 Would you like to bet on your chances?” 

44 I’m not a gambler.” Jack started to turn 
away. 

44 Wait!” Kline persisted. 44 I’m going to offer 
you a proposition that you can’t refuse if you have 
an ounce of sporting blood in you. I’ll bet you 
even money, any amount, that you won’t place at 
all in the first five to cross the finish line!” 

44 1 don’t care to consider it, thanks.” 

44 Afraid, eh?” Kline jeered, his manner under¬ 
going an abrupt change. 44 Not even game to back 
your American Rolls-Royce on a five to one shot!” 

Reese’s face flooded with color at the taunt. His 
jaw bulged out. Kline’s mocking smile had always 
irritated him and aroused his resentment. Now 
it infuriated him. Ever impulsive, it was impos¬ 
sible for his pugnacious nature to refuse a direct 
challenge from one whom he had good reason to 


158 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


regard as his most vindictive enemy. Moreover, 
this challenge belittled the capability of the Reese- 
Dejeans motor and questioned his faith in it. He 
stepped closer, so purposefully that Kline retreated 
a pace. 

64 Listen, Kline!” he said tensely, 44 1 know you’ve 
got something up your sleeve. You must have. 
You’ve never seen my car perform to my knowl¬ 
edge; you don’t know what it’s capable of. And 
you’re the kind that wouldn’t play penny-ante with¬ 
out a marked deck. But I don’t give a damn! 

44 Here’s a proposition for your sporting blood,” 
he plunged on recklessly. 44 Gordon Corbin has 
told me that he has transferred to you the note for 
the ten thousand dollars I borrowed of him. I have 
that money in the bank ready to pay you on 
demand. I’m ready to settle now. But if you 
want to sign an agreement giving me until one week 
after the race to meet the note, I’ll wager you the 
ten thousand, even money, that I do place in the 
first five. If I win, you give me the note to 
destroy. If I lose, you’ll probably get the Reese- 
Dejeans bearing. I won’t have a cent in the world 
to pay you otherwise. That’s how far I’m game to 
back my motor.” 

44 Done!” Kline agreed. 

Before posting the bet with a stakeholder, how¬ 
ever, Jack ’phoned Marcel to get his consent to the 
gamble. But, as he had anticipated, the little 
Frenchman was blasphemously eager to share the 
risk. 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


159 


“ Sacre damn, yes!” Dejeans cried. “ It ees ze 
suckair money. And, voila! ze patents are in your 
name. Put zem all up if zis feesh would t’row 
away ze money!” 

But Jack was too prudent for that. The small 
voice of reason was already telling him that he 
was playing another man’s game in accepting the 
bet at all. Kline, he knew, was no gambler by 
nature; he played only pat hands. Hence there 
must be something behind this 66 sporting proposi¬ 
tion,” eminently fair and aboveboard though it was 
to all outward appearance. But it was too late to 
back out; the agreement was made. And Jack 
knew that he would never have reneged, after going 
so far, even were he gambling against a more 
gracious opponent than Barton Kline. So the 
money was put up. And Reese returned home 
with the disquieting memory of Kline’s parting 
smile — mocking and triumphant — to keep him 
awake during the long hours of the night. 

At four o’clock — an hour before dawn — the 
alarm clock startled him bolt upright in his bed. 
With a sheepish grin for his unusual case of 
46 nerves,” he shut off the bell and began to dress. 
On the cot against the opposite wall of the work¬ 
shop Marcel was already sleepily rolling a ciga¬ 
rette. Together now they shared the night watch 
over the completed racer. And this was their cus¬ 
tomary hour of arising during the testing of the 
motor; it insured them the safety of a deserted 
highway on which to make their trials. 


160 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


Marcel touched a match to his cigarette and in¬ 
haled deeply. 

66 Me,” he yawned, 66 1 am glad zis ees ze last 
time we must get up so early. Zose damn clock 
makes me seeck like ze army reveille!” 

But no sleepiness could long endure under the 
exhilarating spell that came with the sweeping 
motion of the racer well under way. The air had 
a bite and healthy tang to it, beating on the faces 
of the partners crouched down behind the cowl. 
Dawn was just breaking as they reached the high¬ 
way. The landward horizon was a soft pastel of 
crimson and amethyst. And the concrete roadway 
lay into the distance, gray, deserted, and perfectly 
smooth, straight as an arrow. 

66 Get ready!” Marcel warned, as he caught sight 
of the signboard, well ahead, that was the first 
marker for the sprint. In a second, it seemed, 
they were abreast of it. 

66 Go!” 

From a running start at comparatively low 
speed — a mile a minute — the racer accelerated 
marvelously. With a drumming roar, with flames 
shooting from the side ports, it skimmed the high¬ 
way like a streak of crimson light. Faster, and still 
faster. Hillside, trees, electrical poles — all 
merged into a fantastic blur. The wind, screaming, 
was shunted aside. 

Jack threw out the clutch and let the racer 
coast on to an easy stop. 

64 How long?” he asked. 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


161 


Marcel peered down at the stop watch. He 
looked again. 

66 Fifty-seven seconds,” he answered in an awed 
whisper. “ Bettair zan two miles a minute!” 

“Some!” Jack grinned elatedly. “And she 
wasn’t all the way out at that.” He threw the gears 
into reverse, and started to turn. But before he 
could get well under way, a motorcyclist turned 
into the highway from a side road, intercepting 
them. The rider held up his hand for them to stop. 
A star showed on his leather jacket. He spoke in 
a taciturn growl, handing over a slip of paper 
already made out. 

“ Pinched for speedin’. And don’t ramble over 
thirty goin’ back to town. I’ll be followin’ you the 
whole way.” 

Jack started to remonstrate, but was cut short: 

“ Tell it to the judge, brother, at ten o’clock. 
I’m too sleepy to understand.” A mile further 
along a second motorcyclist joined the first. They 
compared stop watches as they rode along abreast 
the racer. Something like admiration showed for 
an instant on the taciturn one’s face. “ It’s a won¬ 
der this concrete didn’t roll up and follow you at 
a hundred and thirty per,” he called to Reese. 
“ But Gawd help you when the judge gets hold of 
you; no one else can!” 

And Reese found that he stood in need of aid 
when his case was called to the bar of justice. 
Old Judge Ennis was a self-constituted evil jinn 
of speeders, known for his harsh sentences through- 


162 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


out southern California; moreover, he was a notori¬ 
ous 64 bawler-out ” of his victims. 

44 Reese,” he addressed Jack in pronouncing sen¬ 
tence, 44 you have pleaded guilty to driving in 
excess of two miles a minute over a public high¬ 
way. I have been informed by a prominent citizen 
who reported your flagrant case that this is a 
customary practice of yours. If so, you are an 
idiot — more dangerous to the commonwealth than 
a maniac! I should like to sentence you like a 
common felon. Unfortunately, I cannot; you have 
injured no one.” After this somewhat ambiguous 
statement, His Honor pronounced the judgment of 
the court: 44 Fifteen days in jail or complete sus¬ 
pension of your driving privilege for six months!” 

44 But I must drive in the Girard Cup Race two 
weeks from now!” Jack protested. 

44 You should have thought of that before,” 
Judge Ennis replied acidly. 44 The penalties of the 
law aren’t prescribed for the comfort of violators. 
The sentence stands. Choose your alternative.” 

Marcel sprang from his seat far back in the 
courtroom. 

44 Sacre damn!” he cried, 44 it ees zat you do 
not onderstand-” 

44 Order!” barked the judge. 

But Marcel, beside himself with anxiety and 
excitement, continued to pour forth a torrent of 
words — invectives, when he was again ordered to 
silence. 



THE CHECKERED FLAG 


163 


Judge Ennis nodded to the bailiff and pointed his 
trembling gavel at the irate Frenchman. 

“ Ten days for contempt!” he thundered. 46 No 
alternative!” 

Again, it appeared, the calculating brain of 
Barton Kline had scored disastrously against the 
partners. For there was no doubt in the mind of 
either of them as to the identity of the 66 promi¬ 
nent citizen ” who had informed Judge Ennis of 
their early morning tests. 


CHAPTER XV 


Jack accepted his misfortune with the best grace 
he could muster. There was no denying the seri¬ 
ousness of the predicament he was in, however. 
And Marcel’s temporary incarceration made the 
situation even more desperate. Naturally Reese 
had instantly decided to choose the penalty of 
losing all driving privilege for six months as the 
lesser evil of the alternatives offered him. And 
in the same moment he had decided that Dejeans 
should drive the Special in the Girard Race in his 
stead. But the impulsive Frenchman had made 
that impossible the next second by foolishly con¬ 
testing the decision of Judge Ennis. 

As matters stood, therefore, the Reese-Dejeans 
would have to be piloted by some other if it were 
to compete in the race only a little over a fort¬ 
night distant. Dejeans would be out of jail before 
that time and could still ride as mechanician; but 
it would be tempting Providence for him to drive 
after only three or four days to familiarize him¬ 
self with the Capri Track. In addition, Jack under¬ 
stood that the qualifying lap would have to be run 
several days in advance of the race. 

Reese left the courtroom, after a hurried fare¬ 
well to the disconsolate Marcel, with a tentative 
plan of action already made. He hired a trust- 
164 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


165 


worthy watchman to stand guard over the racer 
during his absence, and caught a noon auto stage 
for Los Angeles. There, he telephoned an official 
of the Beverly Hills Speedway with whom he was 
slightly acquainted. Luck was with him. The 
other was able to put him immediately in touch 
with an unengaged racing driver of ability and 
experience — one, however, who had won no spec¬ 
tacular success. 

64 Muldoon is a good heady pilot,” the official 
said, 66 and his record is A-one. He’s a square 
shooter. But he’s never had a really first-class car 
under him. He’s been a whipper-in with the Lan¬ 
sing team until this season. But he quit them in 
a huff when they wouldn’t give him a decent boat. 
Look him up anyhow. He may be just the man you 
want.” 

Reese found that the Los Angeles address given 
him by the other was that of a garage. And he 
found big Jimmy Muldoon working there for 
mechanic’s wages. The black-haired Irishman, 
muscled like a bull, crawled out of an overhauling 
pit in response to Jack’s question. But his ready 
smile left him when Reese explained the nature 
of his business. 

64 No, sir! I’m through with the racin’ game,” 
Muldoon said positively. 44 I’ve been the goat for 
years on every track from Sheepshead Bay to 
Cotati, and I’m through shovin’ hacks acrost the 
finish after the stands are empty. I never won 
a race. I never had a chance to. And if I ever go 


166 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


back, I’m goin’ to be damn’ well sure I’ve got a 
heap beneath me that won’t hit even the high spots. 
Jimmy Muldoon’s through and finished as an also- 
ran. So there you are. Did you ever hear of any 
special winnin’ from a classy field like will turn 
out for the Girard Race?” 

66 1 suppose you’re familiar with the plan of 
the Capri Track, aren’t you?” Jack countered. 

46 1 am,” said Muldoon, 44 and I’m here to tell 
you, friend, that it’s the best laid out for its size 
in the world, bar none. The Girard is goin’ to see 
some records fall.” 

44 Could you do a hundred and thirty on the 
straightaways?” Reese asked tentatively. 

44 Can a nigger shoot craps! I’ll say I could — 
if there’s a car that could stand the grind.” 

44 I’d pilot my car myself,” Jack said, 44 only I 
was arrested for speeding this morning, and my 
driving privilege was suspended for six months—” 

44 Sorry,” Muldoon interrupted, 44 but —” 

44 1 was doing a hundred and thirty an hour on 
the highway,” Reese let drop casually, 44 and 
wasn’t wide open at that.” 

44 A hundred and th-!” Muldoon stared 

incredulously. 44 On the level? Or are you kid¬ 
ding me?” 

44 On the level. You’ll find it on record in Judge 
Ennis’s court. I don’t know how you feel about it, 
but the old boy seemed to think that was going 
some!” 

Big Jimmy Muldoon glanced at the clock hooked 



THE CHECKERED FLAG 167 

onto a spike in the wall. It was on the stroke of 
five. 

“Hell!” he sighed, unhooking his overalls. 
“ This makes the third job I’ve quit this month. 
I just can’t seem to be satisfied. But what’s the 
dif? Some fools are made, and some are born 
racing drivers. That’s me all over, Mabel. I’m 
hired!” 

The eager Irishman returned to Tres Arroyos 
with Reese that same night. Jack had become 
entirely convinced of the other’s honesty, aside 
from the recommendations and spotless record he 
had. Furthermore, Muldoon knew the financial 
ins and outs of the racing game thoroughly. And 
as his pay, aside from expenses, was to be half of 
whatever prize money he made, he quickly dis¬ 
covered several sources which might be made to 
yield an additional profit. He promised to get 
bonus contracts from every company that had 
equipment on the Reese-Dejeans — from spark 
plugs and tires to gasoline and oil. A win would 
mean several thousand dollars from those sources 
for advertising privileges, he said. Then there was 
the lap money — twenty-five dollars for each lap a 
driver led the field — another ten thousand to shoot 
at. 

Jack saw that if victory fell to the Reese-Dejeans, 
even with the profit divided, he would have ample 
funds to build the first demonstration car. And 
the wager with Kline would net enough to establish 
a showroom in Los Angeles or San Francisco where 


168 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


the machine could be exhibited to possible inves¬ 
tors. On paper it all looked as good as his. The 
Reese-Dejeans, he was confident, could ramble 
with the best of them; and Muldoon, an able man, 
was out to make a name for himself. 

But Jack was beginning to realize the tremendous 
mistake he had made in gambling with Barton 
Kline. Practically, by so doing, he had put a 
premium on Kline’s sinister schemings. And the 
arrest that morning was only the first of the crip¬ 
pling attempts that might be expected before the 
race. The Geneva Corporation’s field man would 
bend every effort toward keeping the Reese-Dejeans 
from making a favorable showing. But it was im¬ 
possible to forecast from what direction the next 
blow would fall, so Jack had to be content with 
putting Muldoon on his guard. 

The big Irishman refused to become alarmed. 

64 These racing crews are the best bunch of clean 
sports in the world,” he said. 66 It’s a religion 
with them, almost, to play the game square. I’ll 
hand pick my pit team; there’ll be no dirty work 
from the inside, mark that. And nobody I don’t 
know ain’t right’ll get within shootin’ distance of 
this Darby of ours. All I ask is fair racin’ luck, 
and we’ll show the cockeyed world!” 

Reese devoutly hoped that such would be the 
case. But it was with a vague presentiment of 
hovering disaster that he watched Muldoon start the 
racer on the long drive up to the Capri Track early 
the following morning. At the last moment, he had 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


169 


decided not to go along. The Special was in per¬ 
fect shape. Muldoon was trustworthy and compe¬ 
tent. And the Irishman, with his big chance at last 
accorded him, had enough at stake to assure his 
utmost vigilance in safeguarding the machine from 
harm. Considering all that, Jack felt that he could 
employ the time before the race to better advan¬ 
tage than in loafing about the speedway. Too, 
when near the slender, low-hung racer, there was 
the constant hungering urge to ignore Judge 
Ennis’s harsh sentence — to sit behind the motor 
he had perfected and drive faster and still faster 
to the siren spell of its powerful, pulsing rhythm. 

But that was out of the question. For six 
months even the services of the rattletrap flivver 
must be dispensed with. Judge Ennis had indeed 
chosen a heartbreaking means of impressing the 
legal limits of speed on one unhappy violator! 
And had that “ prominent citizen,” Barton Kline, 
chanced to pass Mother McGuire’s driveway at the 
moment the maroon speedster glided from it, he 
might have found a perverted satisfaction in view¬ 
ing the dejected watcher who stood staring after it, 
anxious and brooding — like one whose eyes and 
heart follow a ship going hull down on the horizon. 

As a matter of plain truth, there was another 
reason to prohibit Reese’s going to the Capri 
Track at this time. He was short of money. By 
remaining at Mother McGuire’s, he could live half 
as cheaply as at. some San Francisco hotel. And 
the saving of forty or fifty dollars was of prime 


170 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


necessity now. Muldoon’s living expenses for two 
weeks would entirely consume the slender surplus 
that had been set aside for emergency use. Even 
as it was, Jack feared that he would have to dispose 
of some of his cherished personal effects to make 
the trip a day or two before the race. 

But he was spared this sacrifice through Rita’s 
kindness. Making a remiss call on her late in the 
week, she invited him to motor up with the Corbins 
and share their reservations in the grandstand. 
Her father and Gordon added their insistence, so 
Jack finally capitulated. He had intended to be¬ 
come one of the pit team for the Reese-Dejeans, but 
a little thought showed him the foolishness of this. 
The pit crew was limited to five men by track regu¬ 
lations, and he saw the advantage of leaving this 
work to men specially skilled in it. Where seconds 
counted, it was better to make his personal desires 
subservient to greater efficiency. 

Big Jimmy Muldoon wrote that his service crew 
was the most expert on the speedway and abso¬ 
lutely to be trusted. And his daily reports to 
Reese, telegraphed the last week, glowed with 
optimism and faith in the Special. He had quali¬ 
fied at ninety-six miles an hour, but under wraps, 
so he said, to keep other pilots from getting a 
line on his speed. Remaining a dark horse until 
the last moment had many advantages. The motor 
was behaving perfectly, too; the car handled splen¬ 
didly; and with Dejeans now on hand to manage 
the final tuning-up, it was “ a lead-pipe cinch we 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


171 


can’t land worse than second or third.” Such was 
the last heartening message Jack received before 
leaving Tres Arroyos with the Corbins the day 
before the race. 

The whole world, it seemed, was headed for the 
Capri Track on the glorious spring day that was to 
make or mar the fortunes of the partners. Driving 
down the peninsula from San Francisco, where they 
had spent the night at the Palace Hotel, the Corbin 
party found the highway choked with a solid 
stream of southbound machines. The Girard Cup 
Race, while not offering as great a purse as some, 
was the recognized classic of the California racing 
season. And in the eyes of all motordom a victory 
here was as signal an achievement as winning the 
checkered flag in the great Indianapolis annual. 

Jack threw aside all anxiety and gave himself 
up to the pleasure of Rita’s company. Marcel had 
telephoned from the track early that morning, re¬ 
porting all well with the Special; and the little 
Frenchman was enthusiastic over Muldoon’s rare 
driving ability. So victory or defeat rested on the 
knees of the gods; worry could change the result 
not one iota; and this day with Rita — the last one 
ever, Jack had decided, if Muldoon and the Reese- 
Dejeans failed irretrievably — must be made to 
yield all happiness. 

Owing to the unexampled turnout of motorists 
to attend the opening of the Capri Track, with 
consequent trouble in parking, the Corbin party did 
not reach their box until the last moment. They 


172 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


had barely time to settle themselves and look over 
the various entrants in the race before the last 
signal bomb exploded. Broadside to them in per¬ 
fect rank and file, glistened the flamboyant colors 
of twenty-odd roaring, unmuffled racing monsters. 
White and red, yellow, black or checkered, with 
drivers and mechanicians laughing, stern or indif¬ 
ferent, they waited motionless but vibrant, ready 
for the grueling contest that would mean injury 
or death or bitter disappointment to the many who 
rode; victory and the rewards of victory to the 
chosen few. 

Jack touched Rita’s arm lightly. 

“ It’s a great sight, isn’t it?” 

She nodded. 66 Which is yours?” 

66 Number 12,” he said softly, pride catching at 
his throat. 46 That’s our car, Rita — the maroon 
one — next to the outer rail.” Below them they 
saw the shining, low-hung Special, with Big Jimmy 
Muldoon, hooded and goggled, lounging over the 
wheel. Beside the pilot fidgeted the gnomelike, 
diminutive form, dwarfed by comparison, that must 
be Marcel. 

“It’s beautiful, Jack — perfect!” the girl said 
earnestly. “ And you’ll win, I know, because — 
well, because you deserve to. You’ve always 
played fair; you’ve fought your way to this against 
tremendous odds.” An almost imperceptible 
shudder passed over her tense body. “ But it 
seems terrible that men must risk their lives just 
— just to provide a spectacle like this.” 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


173 


“ You’re wrong there, Rita,” Reese replied 
quietly. “ It’s endurance contests such as this 
that have perfected the motor car. It’s the acid 
test. The fit survive, as in everything, and the 
weak fall by the wayside. Today will decide, for 
instance, just how good the Reese-Dejeans bearing 
is. It will decide whether our air-cooled motor 

— the first ever entered in such an event — can 
stand comparison from every angle with the water- 
cooled type. If we win, we’ve written a new page 
in automobile history. If we go bust, so to speak, 

— well, somebody may write a funny poem and 
immortalize us like Darius Green and his flying 
machine!” • 

Rita’s laughing answer was cut short by the 
starting of the pace lap. In squads of four, like a 
well-drilled platoon, the racers rolled into motion 
behind the pace car. Once around the elliptical 
bowl. Then the pace car, well in advance, darted 
off the track. On the bridge, the starter’s flag 
poised, fell. A tumultuous, eager cheer welled 
up from the stands. With a thundering roar, the 
first rank of four lunged across the starting line; 
the second, third and fourth followed, off to a per¬ 
fect start. In a dizzying riot of color and sound, 
the Girard Cup Race was under way! 

But Jack had eyes only for the maroon Special 

— for Number 12, with Big Jimmy Muldoon 
already striving for an advantage before the first 
turn was reached. A flame-red Mercedes was lead¬ 
ing. The remaining three of the first rank were 


174 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


still neck and neck — a Sunbeam, a black Italian 
car, and a Peugot. The second rank was begin¬ 
ning to string out. The third was closing in on 
the heels of it. And the Reese-Dejeans, hurtling 
forward like an unleashed greyhound, was already 
nosing past these along the outer rail! 

Jimmy Muldoon, the pilot who had never won, 
who had never until now had his chance, was at last 
making his long-delayed bid for fame. At the 
second turn, he had headed all but the leading 
four. On the straightaway, fronting the grand¬ 
stand, he glided by the Italian, the famous Tor- 
rano, amid wild acclaim. 

Grim and reckless driving — with death an 
ever-present menace. Inches and split-seconds, 
sometimes, and the most artful control, changed 
foolhardy risks into consummate skill, earning the 
breathless applause of the spectators. 

And the Reese-Dejeans was rolling. Pistons 
beating, thundering along, it rocketed onward in 
stubborn pursuit of the three leaders. Close in 
back swept Torrano, the mad Italian, who had 
won last year’s Grand Prix. Behind him strung 
the field, with many of the world’s best pilots still 
far from beaten. 

Reese, gripping the edges of his seat, watched 
enthralled. He saw the Sunbeam fall back into 
third place behind the Peugot. He saw the Peugot 
head the flame-red Mercedes on the far turn. And 
he saw the Reese-Dejeans pass the Sunbeam, 
closely trailed by the black Italian car! 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


175 


Positions were changing rapidly on the score- 
board. The first lap went to the Mercedes; the 
second to the Peugot. Jimmy Muldoon took the 
third. And the fourth and the fifth! Only the 
scoreboard could tell positions now; places had 
lost meaning in simply following the flashing, 
pounding streaks that circled endlessly past the 
stands. But the Reese-Dejeans and Muldoon, dark 
horses both, were beginning to draw the amazed 
attention of the concourse. An air-cooled motor, 
an obscure pilot; a freak special and a maniac 
Irishman! It was little less than effrontery for 
them to lead the van of the world’s best cars. Yet 
the sympathies of the spectators went out to the un¬ 
knowns. They were cheered to an echo on every 
record-smashing circuit of the ten successive laps 
they led. 

But Torrano was creeping up. With shining 
eyes, Jack watched Muldoon hold the lead over the 
Italian by the sheerest skill and daring. A wearing 
duel developed for supremacy. The Reese- 
Dejeans never faltered. Neither did the black 
Italian car. Speed and more speed. Faster and 
still faster. The eyes blurred in following the diz¬ 
zying sweep of the speed-hungry monsters. 

But the big Irishman began to take fewer 
chances. He had tried out his car at its best and 
found it not wanting. He was content to settle 
down shortly to a pace of one hundred and twenty 
miles an hour and let the law of averages get in its 
deadly work. After all, while not exactly com- 


176 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


parable to the hare and tortoise, it is a steadily 
maintained speed that wins endurance contests, not 
brilliant, sporadic flashes. 

Torrano, on the other hand, continued to accept 
risks that left the crowd momentarily dumb. And 
he got away with them, miraculously, for a time. 
On the thirteenth lap he wrested the lead from Mul- 
doon and held it continuously for ten miles. But 
the Irishman dogged his heels, and went to first 
place again after that distance. 

The race settled down to the grueling contest of 
endurance — man and machinery — it actually 
was. Cars began to drop out here and there. A 
Spanish car limped from the track. One of Mul- 
doon’s old team mates on the Lansing crew quit 
with carburetor trouble. The Peugot threw a tire 
on a turn and narrowly escaped wrecking the ma¬ 
chines bunched behind it. 

At the end of one hundred laps the scoreboard 
showed that the flame-red Mercedes had taken five, 
the Peugot one, and the Sunbeam four. Torrano, 
the popular favorite to win, and Muldoon had 
nearly equally divided the remaining ninety. And 
the Reese-Dejeans was running first once more 
after dropping a close lead to the Italian for sev¬ 
eral laps because of a rear-tire blowout! It had 
not been to the pits once because of engine 
trouble. 

Jack turned pridefully to Joel Corbin. 

66 Well, what do you think of the Reese-Dejeans 
now?” he laughed. 66 Do you still maintain that 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 177 

it hasn’t a chance to wedge out a place in the auto¬ 
mobile industry?” 

The old manufacturing magnate lowered his 
field glass and rubbed his tired eyes. 

66 You’ve almost convinced me, my boy,” he 
smiled. “ And if that wild Irishman of yours 
doesn’t break his neck before the finish, I’m sold 
on the merits of your car, by Godfrey! If the 
Reese-Dejeans finishes at better than a hundred an 
hour — let alone placing in the prize money — 
I’ll see that you get backing of the right sort, if I 
have to go out and beg it. Your patents for air- 
cooling alone, if successful, will be worth-” 

He was cut short by a scream from Rita. The 
surrounding stands seemed to be rising in a living 
mass. Jack’s heart seemed to stop beating as he 
looked from his superior height over the heads of 
intervening watchers. Number 12, the maroon 
Reese-Dejeans Special, out of control, was careen¬ 
ing across the track at the turn. Torrano, trailing 
tight behind, swerved instantly, and with a con¬ 
summate bit of driving steadied his machine and 
raced on — unquestionably supreme now — with 
undiminished speed. 

Number 12 crashed drunkenly oft the track, 
rolled over, with Muldoon and Dejeans crumpled 
in the wreckage beneath! 

By showing his credentials, Jack was admitted 
to the field hospital. But even before he had 
plowed a way through the crowd, he had heard 
the sickening news: The driver of 12 was dead — 



178 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


killed instantly. The little French mechanician, 
miraculously — possibly because of his small size 
— had escaped with only a broken leg and pos¬ 
sible internal injuries. 

After Reese had seen Marcel, cursing and weep¬ 
ing alternately — an augury for rapid recovery — 
comfortably ensconced in a hospital room with 
the broken leg set in splints, he returned to the 
Capri Track. The Girard Cup Race was long 
over. Torrano, the mad Italian, had been victori¬ 
ous, winning the ten-thousand-dollar prize and 
other thousands of lap money. Three spectators 
had been injured by a thrown tire late in the race. 
All established records for the distance had fallen. 
Muldoon was dead. And Number 12 was a hope¬ 
less wreck, good for little else than junk. 

Jack poked about the ruins of the Special, a 
twisted mass of metal and wood, upside down. 
Suddenly he bent forward alertly. His face went 
hard and set. Marcel had told him that the acci¬ 
dent had been caused by a broken radius rod; he 
had come to verify this for a fact. A portion of 
the rod was missing, twisted off. The other part 
remained. Half across the face it showed a raw 
fracture — such as might be expected from crys¬ 
tallization. But the other half of the diameter was 
gummed over with a greasy substance. Scraping 
this away, Jack saw the clean cut of a hack-saw 
blade! 

Big Jimmy Muldoon had not lost his 46 big 
chance ” and his life because of the Special’s 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


179 


weakness, then. Jack was not to lose success be¬ 
cause the Reese-Dejeans motor was a failure. 
Somehow Muldoon had relaxed his vigilance or 
trusted some one unworthy of his faith; and Mar¬ 
cel had missed the abrasion because of the clever 
filling-in that hid it. The radius rod had been 
weakened deliberately, in cold blood, to bring ruin 
to the partners. 

And Reese, standing with clenched fists and blaz¬ 
ing eyes over the wreckage — the wreckage of his 
fondest dreams, too — could think of only one 
who could profit from this ruin. And that one was 
Barton Kline, with his mocking smile, who had 
wagered ten thousand dollars so confidently, prac¬ 
tically against the invaluable bearing patent, that 
the Reese-Dejeans Special would not even place in 
the first five to finish! 


CHAPTER XVI 


Three hopeless days of inactivity — with each 
slow minute implacably shortening the week of 
grace within which Barton Kline must be paid his 
pound of flesh. And during those days of waiting 
for Marcel to recover sufficiently to return to Tres 
Arroyos, Jack found no ray of hope to lighten the 
cloud of depression that had settled about him. 
It was an unusual condition for him. He was 
optimistic by nature. But it was inevitable that a 
reaction should set in after the titanic labors of 
the past months — labors so nearly rewarded by a 
spectacular success, yet which had ended in worse 
than failure. 

As for his financial problems, Jack refused to 
consider any solution that could not be obtained 
on a purely business basis. He might have secured 
the money to pay off Kline’s note by merely hinting 
of his need to Joel Corbin. But Reese’s fine sense 
of pride balked at that. The old land baron had 
refused him positively once on the merits of the 
project; and Jack was not one to put a price on 
the services, however great, he had rendered the 
Corbin family. He denied himself assistance from 
this source with the full knowledge that it was his 
last and only chance of saving the Reese-Dejeans 
bearing. 

Concerning the less tangible problem of bringing 
180 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


181 


Kline to justice for the ruin he had caused, Jack 
was still undecided as to the proper course to pur¬ 
sue. As ever, the Geneva man’s tracks were well 
covered; there was no clue to follow that might 
link him definitely with the plot that had cost 
Jimmy Muldoon’s life. But Jack had no inten¬ 
tion of giving up until this score was settled. One 
of the small cortege that followed the unlucky 
Irishman to his last resting place, he vowed grimly 
that the courageous driver should be ultimately 
avenged. Kline would overreach himself again 
sooner or later, he reflected. Meanwhile a silent 
and patient watchfulness would avail more than an 
announcement of the discovery of the weakened 
radius rod. Believing their dastardly act unde¬ 
tected, Kline and his accomplices would sooner 
relax their caution and perhaps let slip a valuable 
clue. 

On the morning following Muldoon’s funeral. 
Dejeans was permitted to leave the hospital. Hob¬ 
bling along on a pair of crutches, still wan and 
weak from the shock of his recent experience, he 
yet maintained a sort of cynical cheerfulness. But 
his bright little eyes were somber beneath their 
masking smile, for he knew that Jack’s answering 
smile was as hollow as his own — that his partner 
was sick at heart and fearful of the future. 

After buying railroad tickets to Tres Arroyos, 
the partners had left something less than two hun¬ 
dred dollars in cash between them. And that had 
come as a dispensation from good fortune. Mul- 


182 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


doon had won approximately a thousand dollars 
in lap money before the wreck. And since the 
dead driver was without dependents, Jack had 
felt no compunction in taking a half share of the 
prize money, according to agreement, to cover 
pressing needs. Incidental expenses and Marcel’s 
hospital bill had taken toll of over half of it. The 
balance was little enough to keep Marcel until he 
would be well enough to get some sort of employ¬ 
ment. 

Mother McGuire was the first to give proof of 
her undeviating loyalty to her 64 lads ” on their 
return to Tres Arroyos. She emphatically refused 
to accept the money which Jack offered her in 
advance payment for board and lodging. 

46 Kape it; ye’ll need it. And not another wurd 
out o’ ye!” she silenced his objection to her gen¬ 
erosity. 44 Shure, ain’t I knowin’ ye’ll pay me as 
soon as ye git on yer feet ag’in? ’Tis like puttin’ 
it in the bank, it is.” And after giving Jack the 
scant mail that had accumulated during his ab¬ 
sence, she bustled off to cook up something 44 deli- 
kit ” for Marcel. 

But before going through his mail, Jack laid 
away the bills Mrs. McGuire had spurned between 
the leaves of a hefty old volume in the bookcase. 
A few more weeks would likely see him broke, he 
told himself; but at least the worthy Irishwoman 
should not lose what she could ill afford through 
her kindly intended offer. There would be no 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


183 


unpaid obligations to form an ignoble monument to 
the memory of the Reese-Dejeans motor. 

There was only one letter of importance in the 
pile of correspondence. It was from Barton Kline 
— a formal demand for the payment of the note 
for ten thousand dollars three days hence; or, fail¬ 
ing that, calling for the surrender of the rights to 
the non-friction bearing. 

Jack crumpled the slip of paper fiercely and 
flung it into the grate. Moody-eyed, he watched it 
burst into flame among the glowing embers and 
flake away to ashes. His hopes and ambitions had 
been like that, he reflected bitterly. They had 
blazed brilliantly on his toil and that of his faithful 
partner, had lighted the path of dreams, only to 
crumble to ashes and leave him groping and 
despairing at the crucial moment. 

He shrugged. Like many another he had aimed 
too high. His arrow had failed to reach its 
appointed mark because he had winged it with 
impossible hopes instead of practical appreciation 
of his limitations. But, no! His hands gripped the 
arms of his chair and a red haze seemed to rise 
between him and the fire which held his troubled 
gaze. He had not aimed too high. He had not 
lost because of visionary expectations. The motor 
was a success, even if he had been robbed of oppor¬ 
tunity to prove it to a skeptical world; and Rita 
Corbin had not been unattainable. But for Barton 
Kline and his devilish machinations, his uphill fight 


184 THE CHECKERED FLAG 

for happiness and success might easily have been 
won. 

Barton Kline! A feeling of active, burning 
hatred toward the Geneva spy swept over him, 
overwhelmed him — an unreasoning blood lust 
that urged him to come to grips physically, to 
destroy the man who had brought him ruin. He 
began to pace the room, past wrongs flooding into 
his memory to add fuel to a consuming hatred. 
Conflicting emotions warred within him. Reason 
told him that a revenge of violence would bring 
a further avalanche of disaster thundering down 
upon him; but other voices, armed with their own 
irrefutable logic, urged him onward to insane but 
satisfying reprisal. 

Had he not fought above Flanders fields, sent 
men whose faces he had never seen crashing 
earthward to their death, all in the broad name of 
Humanity? Had he not risked all in many a 
desperate air duel inspired by the first principle 
of democracy, that the weak were not the ordained 
prey of the ruthless strong? Why, then, would it 
be wrong to take the life of Barton Kline, who 
preyed likewise on the weak backed by the over¬ 
whelming resources of the Geneva Corporation? 
And what difference would it really make to him 
if people, with their contradictory definitions, now 
gave a just retribution the name of murder? There 
was nothing left to live for, nothing left to lose — 

Mother McGuire poked her head through the 
doorway, her eyes wide with concern. 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


185 


“Wurra, wurra! an’ what’s ailin’ ye, lad?” she 
asked, affrighted. 46 Here I’ve called ye three times 
to supper, an’ ye kape awalkin’ up an’ down the 
floor wid yer face blank an’ yer eyes apoppin’ 
like a bog witch had cast her black spell over ye. 
Come, now,” she coaxed, 44 an’ eat a bite. ’Tis a 
b’iled dinner I’ve made up special fer ye wid lots 
of turnips, the way ye like it.” 

Somehow Jack got through the meal, choking 
down a creditable amount and even complimenting 
the Irishwoman in a way that disarmed her fears. 
But he excused himself as quickly as possible and 
hurried upstairs to his room. There he took 
Massey’s revolver from a drawer, examined it 
carefully to assure himself that it was in perfect 
working order, and shoved it into his hip pocket. 
He penned a brief note to Marcel and another to 
Rita, addressed them and laid them conspicuously 
on his desk. But on second thought he tore open 
the one to the girl and burned it in his ash tray. 
The newspapers might get hold of it, he decided; 
and that would mean unpleasant notoriety for Rita. 
Better far to leave no explanation to her, no fare¬ 
well, than to brand her as the confidante of a fugi¬ 
tive murderer! 

He tried to make his way from the house unob¬ 
served, but on the first-floor landing he was sud¬ 
denly confronted by the flurried Mrs. McGuire. 

44 A foine gintleman to see ye, lad!” she an¬ 
nounced breathlessly. 44 One o’ thim rich mag¬ 
nates, I think. Shure, he’s got dimonts on that ’ud 


186 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


make yer eyes blink. And the most genteel voice 
— just like a actor!” As an afterthought she sur¬ 
rendered the engraved business card tightly pinched 
between her fingers. 

Jack, half of a mind to escape the untimely 
visitor by leaving through the back door, glanced 
at the neat oblong of engraved cardboard with 
arrested attention. Its legend was intriguing: 

66 Homer V. Davenport. Investment Broker ” 

64 I’ll see him,” Reese decided on an impulse. 

46 Praise be, an’ maybe he wants to loan ye 
money to build yer car wid!” Mother McGuire 
enthused. 

44 More likely he wants to sell me an oil well!” 
Jack said gloomily. 44 But it won’t take me long 
to find out.” 

Homer V. Davenport, however, proved even more 
remarkable and interesting than the Irishwoman 
had predicted. He was a large man, of impressive 
girth, with a pink and white complexion and eyes 
as guileless as those of an infant. But he soon 
enough exhibited an alert business acumen and 
the canny instinct of a showman for 44 what the 
public wants.” 

A short conversation with him revealed that his 
business of 44 Investment Broker ” was, reduced to 
the simplest form, nothing more or less than that 
of a promoter. He had attended the Girard Race, 
had witnessed there the short but spectacular 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


187 


ascendency of the Reese-Dejeans; and his shrewd 
brain had at once remarked its unusual adapta¬ 
bility to exploitation. Further inquiry among track 
men who were more or less familiar with the 
unique construction of the partners’ motor had, he 
said, convinced him of its potential earning power. 
So he had secured Reese’s address from the Capri 
Track Secretary and dropped off to see him on his 
way to Los Angeles. 

66 My business is selling stock, promoting new 
industries — for a consideration,” he came to the 
point of his long, free-flowing discourse. 66 1 
understand that you’ve tried to get financial back¬ 
ing — and have failed. I can get it for you — 
if you’re willing to pay my price.” 

66 How?” Reese queried. 

The promoter waved his arm in a large gesture. 

“ How? The power of the press, of course — 
advertising. I can sell the public anything from a 
patent toothpick to a white elephant-” 

66 Just a moment,” Jack interposed. 66 I’d rather 
not finance my motor than do so on exaggerated 
claims. It must go on its merits, or not at all. 
That would have to be understood.” 

66 Of course,” Davenport agreed heartily. 66 Ex¬ 
perience has taught me that it pays to stay strictly 
by the truth in advertising — within the law, so to 
speak. I can give you every assurance on that 
point.” 

Jack was convinced. He tried to disguise his 



188 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


mounting hope under an appearance of indiffer¬ 
ence, but this was a sorry failure. 

44 And what is your price?” he asked in a dry, 
eager voice. 

Homer V. Davenport’s guileless eyes narrowed 
calculatingly. 

64 How much money do you need to start your 
plant, and how much stock do you want to sell?” 
he countered. 

44 1 need five hundred thousand,” Reese said 
hesitantly; 44 and I want to keep control.” In¬ 
wardly he braced himself for a sharp rebuff. But 
it was not forthcoming. 

44 Then you’ll have to be capitalized for about 
a million,” the promoter computed coolly. 44 That’ll 
leave you a sixty-five per cent control — a big, 
safe margin.” He went on to explain. The sale 
of one fourth of the capital stock would realize 
half the amount required to build the factory. 
The other half could be borrowed from some bank 
easily, with a blanket mortgage on factory and 
equipment representing the combined amounts for 
security. 

44 But what becomes of the other ten per cent of 
stock?” Reese inquired, puzzled. 

44 That’s my split for financing you,” Daven¬ 
port explained. 44 And that’s dirt cheap, consider¬ 
ing that I’ll have to pay all promotion expenses and 
get the permit from the Railroad Commission to 
issue the stock. State law allows ten per cent for 
that purpose, so it must be all right. And at best 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 189 

I’ll be lucky if I get clear with fifty thousand for 
myself.” 

Perforce, Jack accepted Davenport’s offer. More 
readily when, in the ensuing discussion, the pro¬ 
moter agreed to meet Barton Kline’s note at once. 
However, that amount was to be later refunded 
through sale of some of the partners’ personal 
stock. And the same agreement was to hold for 
the sum Davenport was to advance for the building 
of a demonstration car. The promoter traded 
more shrewdly when he discovered the imperative 
nature of Reese’s obligation to Barton Kline. 

None the less, Jack felt that Fortune had been 
most kind to him. Davenport did not represent a 
type of man that he ordinarily trusted or cared to 
engage in business with. But any straw was to be 
grasped at in this darkest moment, and he had to 
admit that the promoter had followed a perfectly 
logical course. He had seen a possible profit to 
be made from the Reese-Dejeans and had acted 
accordingly. And he made no denial of the fact 
that his interest was purely mercenary. 

“ I keep moving,” he said breezily by way of 
farewell, after coming to an agreement with the 
partners late that night. “ I work fast. Adver¬ 
tising does it. In the next few days you’ll see 
things begin to bust in the Los Angeles papers. 
Biggest come-on colony in the world there. In two 
months you’ll have your working capital all paid 
in. Meanwhile, get busy on that demonstration 
car. I’ll have to have it in three weeks at the 


190 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


latest. I’ll make arrangements tomorrow for the 
Tres Arroyos Bank to honor your drafts for mate¬ 
rials and to have them take up that Kline note at 
once.” He jumped into his brilliant red touring 
car with an agility that belied his appearance of 
corpulency, and waved a genial farewell with one 
bejeweled hand. 64 Speed’s our motto, remember. 
So long. I’m off in a cloud of dust!” 

And speed was the partners’ watchword in truth 
during the ensuing weeks. At last — for the first 
time since Jack had projected plans for the motor 
— everything seemed to conspire toward the con¬ 
summation of his ambitions. He shuddered when 
he recalled the crime he had so recently been on the 
verge of committing. And while he still cherished 
the undying determination to bring Kline to justice 
for the murder of Muldoon, he was too busy and 
generally pleased with developments to brood over 
the personal wrongs he had suffered. Kline’s note 
was paid. Joel Corbin had agreed to approve a 
loan from the Tres Arroyos Bank equaling the sum 
realized from stock sales. Working two shifts, the 
demonstration car was rapidly nearing completion. 

It went to Los Angeles under its own power in 
record time — nineteen days. Preceded by a brass 
band and a drum corps, it rolled sedately up Spring 
Street to the exhibition room awaiting it, its motor 
functioning noiselessly and to perfection, its dis¬ 
tinguished lines the cynosure of every eye on the 
crowded thoroughfare. 

The stock-selling campaign opened with a bang. 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


191 


Homer V. Davenport was a past master in the art 
of arousing public interest. Every paper flaunted 
full-page ads that day — and the next and next. 
Famous movie actors and actresses were posed at 
the wheel of 66 America’s Ace — the Reese-Dejeans 
Wondercar.” And it was rumored widely that 
many of these film luminaries were taking sub¬ 
stantial blocks of the stock which was “ being 
offered in very limited quantity to investors with 
vision.” And the sale of stock did progress with 
all reasonable speed. 

All would have been well had Davenport been 
content to confine himself to facts in his campaign. 
But in order to hasten his individual 66 clean-up,” 
he resorted to the most extravagant and impossible 
claims to intrigue investors. When sales began to 
lag a little, he resorted to the more questionable 
devices of the press agent. Strictly speaking, no 
announcement was made that was untrue or illegal. 
The investor was left to draw his own conclusions 
from the roseate picturing of 66 proposed build¬ 
ings,” 66 contemplated extensions,” and 66 antici¬ 
pated profits.” 

When the first of these misguiding advertise¬ 
ments came to his notice, Jack went at once to Los 
Angeles and had it out with the promoter. Homer 
V. Davenport was quite insulted by the flat accusa¬ 
tion that he had been resorting to fraud to promote 
sales. 

66 Fve guaranteed nothing at all. Fve made no 
positive assertions,” he pointed out. 66 So why 


192 THE CHECKERED FLAG 

get on your high horse? We’re strictly within the 
law.” 

“ Regardless of that, we’re through with that 
sort of advertising. As I told you at the start, if 
the Reese-Dejeans can’t be put across on its merits 
we’ll give it up.” 

46 But there’s fifty thousand dollars worth of 
stock to be floated yet,” Davenport objected. 66 It 
can’t be disposed of in any other way. Wildcat 
oil stocks are catching most of the money.” 

44 We’ll close the campaign then,” Reese said 
decisively. 

“ Very well.” Davenport nodded curtly. 46 But 
remember, that fifty thousand is the balance due me 
for promoting your company. That’s my contract. 
Pay me that out of the treasury and I’m willing 
enough to call it quits.” 

Jack smiled grimly. 

44 I’ll give it to you in stock, Davenport. 4 We 
anticipate a net profit of twenty per centum during 
the first year!’ ” he quoted from the latest ad. 
44 You couldn’t ask for better returns than that, 
could you?” 

44 1 demand cash!” the promoter insisted. 

Imperturbably Reese made out the order for 
the stock and tossed it onto the desk. 

44 Take it or leave it,” he said. 44 It’s double 
what you’ve earned honestly; but I’ll stand by my 
agreement if you’ll meet me half way. Otherwise, 
my lawyer is looking up some data concerning 
past operations of yours which may come in handy 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


193 


if you decide to go to court,” he fired a random 
shot as he turned confidently away. “ I keep 
moving, Davenport. So long. I’m off in a cloud 
of dust!” 

But from the doorway he glanced back to see the 
promoter carefully placing the stock order in a 
hefty, gold-edged wallet. Evidently — and as 
later events proved — Homer V. Davenport had 
accepted the proffered compromise. 


CHAPTER XVII 


The following months fled all too rapidly for 
Jack. As president and manager of the company, 
a thousand and one tasks devolved upon him daily. 
Snap decisions had to be made and made correctly. 
Equipment had to be contracted for expeditiously 
and yet with a fine sense of discrimination. Soon 
enough the young president of Reese-Dejeans 
Motors realized the grave responsibility attached 
to the spending of a half-million dollars. 

In innumerable instances he was indebted to the 
sage advice of Joel Corbin. The old land baron 
saved him from costly blunders time and again. 
In single cases Jack’s judgment was almost always 
sound; but he lacked the broad, cohesive knowledge 
coming of experience, which the other possessed. 
And Corbin was genuinely interested in Reese’s 
success, aside from the fact that the new concern 
owed the bank in which he was chief stockholder 
a matter of two hundred and fifty thousand dol¬ 
lars. That amount was secured by a mortgage on 
the modern, reinforced-concrete factory building 
which was slowly arising on the Tres Arroyos 
water front. 

On Corbin’s advice, Jack had purchased this 
advantageous site for a very nominal sum — con¬ 
sidering that it was already equipped with a large 
frame warehouse. This building had been one of 
194 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


195 


Corbin Motors’ original supply sheds; but an 
unexampled growth had necessitated a shifting 
and enlarging of storage quarters years ago. But 
the structure had been kept in excellent repair, 
and contained considerably more than space 
enough for the immediate storage needs of the 
Reese-Dejeans Company. 

It was Jack’s intention to manufacture only the 
motor at first. The chassis, for the time being, 
could be bought of one of the large body plants 
specializing in that work. This served a two¬ 
fold purpose. It saved a considerable initial out¬ 
lay for machinery and floor space, and it permitted, 
of consequence, nearly the entire liquid assets of 
the company to go into the motor factory. Until 
the Reese-Dejeans got well established, a portion 
of the roomy warehouse — remodeled at moder¬ 
ate expense — was to serve as the assembling shop. 

The factory, in spite of Jack’s best efforts, could 
not be made ready for production before early 
in December. He chafed at the unavoidable delay; 
but the intervening months — after all bids had 
been let — were in no wise idle ones for the part¬ 
ners. Among other things, they were looking to the 
future in regard to the next Girard Race. It 
would be run again just when Reese-Dejeans out¬ 
put should be well under way, in the early spring. 
A victory would tremendously boost first sales. It 
would make comparatively easy the problem of 
finding retail distributors. 

In this latter connection, Jack had already re- 


196 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


ceived a promising offer — an offer the more pleas¬ 
ing because it had been unsolicited. But as is 
usual in such cases, the offer had a string to it. 
C. J. Gilpin, perhaps the biggest distributor of 
expensive foreign cars in America, had written for 
specifications of the new motor. And he had been 
so favorably impressed that he had offered to take 
over wholesale distribution east of the Mississippi, 
guaranteeing a minimum disposal of one hundred 
cars per month — provided only that the Reese- 
Dejeans won the next Girard Cup Race! And as 
Joel Corbin vouched for Gilpin’s responsibility, 
Jack determined to bend every effort toward a 
victory. 

Thus, in a somewhat different way, a win on 
the Capri Track the coming season would mean 
even more than it had on the last disastrous attempt. 
It would mean the sale of one hundred or more 
expensive cars a month — a turnover alone suf¬ 
ficient to establish the Reese-Dejeans with a 
moderate profit from the outset; leaving out of 
consideration the exploitation of the large and 
wealthy western territory. 

It would mean, too, that Jack could at last speak 
his inmost heart to Rita. She had been often in 
his company of late, and always in his thoughts. 
And he found an increasing admiration for her 
in the penetrating insight with which she grasped 
and solved the business problems he sometimes 
confided to her. For several years now she had 
personally managed the considerable fortune left 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


197 


her by her mother, and she was a keen business 
woman. To Jack, whose talents were more for 
production than finance, this unusual ability of 
Rita’s approached the miraculous. It set her apart, 
and at the same time drew her closer; for she 
could take a helpful and intelligent part in dis¬ 
cussions which would have been Greek to the 
ordinary girl. But Reese continued studiously to 
guard their close friendship from taking a more 
serious trend. Victory had been snatched from 
him before, he knew; and he was determined as 
ever to win a recognized success before asking the 
girl he loved to share his fortunes. 

Considering the favorable trend of events in 
general, this repression of Jack’s might be open 
to question — but for one sinister circumstance. 
Homer V. Davenport’s five per cent of stock had 
been transferred on the company’s books to Barton 
Kline! This in itself had no particular signifi¬ 
cance; a minority of the stock had been offered at 
public sale without restrictions. Moreover, Reese 
and Marcel had, and intended to keep, a controlling 
interest; and the plant’s policy and operation were 
theirs to command. But through his holding, Kline 
had availed himself of the right of free access 
to the factory, to the company’s books, and to the 
66 inside ” information this naturally entailed. 

He knew, for instance, that certain last-minute 
additions to the factory had consumed the capital 
laid aside for initial operating expenses. He knew 
that the partners had met this eventuality by bor- 


198 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


rowing liberally on their personal stock, turning 
the amount realized into the company’s treasury on 
a potentially unsecured loan. And he knew that 
Jack intended to enter two Reese-Dejeans racing 
cars in the Girard Race, one to be piloted by 
himself, the other by the best professional driver 
that money could employ. 

Jack made no great effort to disguise these facts; 
sooner or later they would have become generally 
known at all events. But it was disquieting to 
him in a way to feel that he was under constant 
surveillance. Such patient shadowing must have 
an important underlying motive. The continued 
stay in Tres Arroyos of a man of Kline’s ability, 
ostensibly idling, could have but one purpose — a 
purpose unguessed but surely inimical to the Reese- 
Dejeans interests. And the fifty thousand dollars 
Kline had invested in stock, doubtless as agent of 
the Geneva Corporation, would be a trifling loss 
to that wealthy concern if it could be used some¬ 
how as an opening wedge to gain possession of the 
partners’ patents. 

But at this point Reese was always reassured by 
the knowledge of his and Marcel’s controlling 
interest. As long as they did not relinquish that, 
as long as the new plant was even moderately suc¬ 
cessful, Kline could do little harm. Or so Jack 
confidently anticipated. He, as well as the more 
astute head of Corbin Motors, failed to perceive 
as yet the signs of the gathering storm which was 
to shake the Corbin interests as well as the part- 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


199 


ners’ less well established venture to their very 
foundations. 

Reese’s confidence was further increased by a 
secret which only he and Marcel shared. While the 
factory was going up, they quietly developed a new 
and important improvement to the motor. Com¬ 
mercially, it was of inconsiderable value, for its 
use was restricted to the super-speed of track 
racing. But there — particularly in the forthcom¬ 
ing Girard Race, on which so much would depend 
— its use would immeasurably increase the chances 
of victory. Roughly, the complicated invention was 
a sort of supercharger — a system of forced induc¬ 
tion to the carburetor remarkably increasing accel¬ 
eration and speed. And with two Reese-Dejeans 
racers to be equipped with this device, with one of 
them to be piloted, if tentative arrangements held, 
by the renowned Torrano himself, it was small 
wonder that Jack was sanguine of the future. 

The Reese-Dejeans factory began production 
shortly before Christmas — without fuss or fur¬ 
belows. At eight o’clock of a Monday morning 
the power was turned on, machinery began to 
whir, men bent to their appointed work; and a 
new infant had been born into the automotive 
industry — an infant in the sense of age, but one 
which must be self-supporting from the start. Only 
time could tell whether it was destined to stand 
the hard buffeting of the industrial world which 
must come before maturity. 

One favorable aspect was the substantial mass 


200 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


of orders already waiting to be filled — enough to 
consume a one-shift output well on to the time of 
the Girard race. Reese’s wide-awake sales man¬ 
ager had months ago disposed of distributing terri¬ 
tory throughout the West to good advantage. 
Agents were already telegraphing in for preference 
in first deliveries of display cars. 

Remembering, however, Joel Corbin’s half-jest¬ 
ing promise of a year before, Jack himself drove 
the first completed Reese-Dejeans stock car to the 
Tres Arroyos Bank. The machine was a maroon- 
colored brougham, with the beautiful, clean lines 
ordinarily only seen in a custom-built product. 
And beneath the satin-smooth hood purred a 
motor capable of one hundred miles an hour, yet 
one which was soft and docile in traffic. Reese 
had every reason to feel proud of his achievement, 
and he was — inordinately so. But it was with a 
rapidly beating heart that he asked to be admitted 
to Corbin’s private office. The old manufacturer 
could be counted on to give a straightforward 
statement of his first impression of the car. He 
would render no false praise. And his shrewd 
appraisal, favorable or adverse, might be taken as 
the voice of the automobile world. 

With a feeling verging on panic, Jack forced a 
casual greeting. 

66 I’ve brought around that car you ordered from 
me last year, Mr. Corbin,” he smiled. 66 It’s out¬ 
side at the curb if you’ve time to look it over. It’s 
— it’s the first one to be completed.” 


THE CHECKERED FLAQ 


201 


Joel Corbin sprang to his feet. One keen glance 
had sufficed to reveal to him all the emotions Reese 
was trying so desperately to disguise: pride, hope, 
eagerness — and uncertainty. 

66 Always have time to look at something new 
and interesting, Reese,” he laughed, 64 especially 
when my money’s going into it. You’ve called my 
bluff, boy, by Godfrey you have! Lead me to 
it, and I’ll pay the damages without a whimper!” 

With all the curiosity and intense interest of a 
youngster, Joel Corbin examined the chassis and 
fittings of the Reese-Dejeans. His inspection was 
thorough and silent, so thorough that Jack’s fears 
began to gain the ascendancy. Finally the old 
manufacturer stood off for a last critical survey. 

44 Designed something after the Isotta-Fraschini, 
isn’t it?” he commented keenly. 

44 A little,” Jack said; 44 but we’ve tried to work 
out something less formal than the Continental cars 
in general — something that a man can drive him¬ 
self without offending the proprieties and the chauf¬ 
feurs’ union.” 

But Corbin was again absorbed completely — 
delving under the hood, inspecting the purring 
motor with a practiced eye that missed no detail. 
He returned to Reese’s side dusting his fingers with 
a handkerchief. 

44 A good job, a mighty good job,” he rendered 
his verdict, while Jack hung on the words eagerly. 
44 I’ve never seen a better stock-model design. And 
the motor is A-one. Even with the limitations of 


202 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


quantity production, I hardly see where it could be 
improved on.” 

44 Then you think,” Reese asked, 44 that we’ll be 
able to put it across after all?” 

Joel Corbin shook his head. 

46 1 don’t know,” he admitted frankly. 44 If it 
was anybody but you, Reese, I’d be very much 
inclined to doubt it. You’ve done wonders so far, 
but you’re still operating on a shoestring, so to 
speak. You owe considerable money. The de¬ 
mand for your product isn’t firmly established as 
yet. I don’t want to seem gloomy or discouraging, 
but actually I believe you have a bigger fight ahead 
of you than any you’ve won.” His eyes clouded 
with more than a trace of doubt. 44 Automobile 
stocks generally are unstable right now — and for 
no good reason. The demand for motors has never 
been better; the country is prosperous. But there’s 
something in the wind — something I can’t exactly 
put my finger on as yet — but it smells trouble in 
store for some one.” 

44 But Reese-Dejeans stock is being quoted right 
along at not far below the par value of fifty — or 
was the last time I looked,” Jack pointed out. 

44 Closed at forty-one last night,” Corbin said 
briefly. 44 And that’s a good strong price for a 
new issue of the kind.” 

44 Well, then, what is there for me to worry 
about?” Jack puzzled. 44 Our stock’s strong, you 
say, and you like the car. And you already know 
what a boom we’ll have if we win the Girard Race 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


203 


and get Mr. Gilpin’s contract for a hundred cars a 
month-” 

64 C. J. Gilpin is playing safe,” Corbin cut in. 
44 His business is to sell cars, not to make them. 
And he knows that he can sell the Reese-Dejeans if 
it makes a big name for itself — which, if you’ll 
pardon my saying so, is still problematical. But 
neither Gilpin nor the Lord Almighty can or will 
help you if your stock tumbles to twenty-five before 
you’re well out of debt. 

44 I’m not referring to the mortgage on your 
plant; that’s secured and can ride. But your per¬ 
sonal loan on your stock to finance production isn’t 
so substantially secured; it’s backed only by the 
market value of your stock. If that goes down, 
the value of your security diminishes correspond¬ 
ingly. At twenty-five you’d be up against it. At 
that figure, the Los Angeles banks from whom you 
borrowed would be justified — compelled, I might 
say — to throw your stock on the open market to 
protect themselves. And perhaps the Geneva Cor¬ 
poration wouldn’t snap it up, eh — especially if 
they happened to be manipulating the market with 
that very purpose in view! Do you get the point?” 

Jack frowned in bewilderment. 

44 1 get an inkling here and there,” he said, 44 but 
all this high finance leaves me high and dry. I 
don’t understand it — or how to fight it. What 
would you suggest?” 

44 I’d suggest that you make the daily stock 
reports your Bible for the next few months. And 



204 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


if your stock starts any unusual and rapid fluctu¬ 
ation, get busy and bolster it up as best you can. 
Fight! Get some one you trust to advise you of 
ways and means — some one familiar with the 
stock game.” 

64 Can you recommend such a one offhand?” 
Reese queried anxiously. 

44 Yes; there are dozens who could handle it. 
You could yourself, easily, if you had the time to 
study it out. But if you get worried, call me up, 
and I’ll try to put you in touch with some one 
reliable.” Joel Corbin chuckled dryly. 44 1 don’t 
want you to think I’m a born calamity howler, 
Reese. Nothing at all may come of all this pala¬ 
ver of mine. But it’s just as well to keep your 
weather eye out; put your trust in God, but keep 
your powder dry, as some one or other said.” 
He grasped Jack’s arm and piloted him toward the 
entrance of the bank. 44 Now come along into my 
office, and I’ll write you out a check for this new 
purchase of mine. You’re a lifesaver in a way. 
I’ve been racking my brain for over a week to 
think of something unusual I could give Rita for 
her birthday.” 

Reese held back. 

44 Mr. Corbin, just a moment — please. I — 
that is, my partner and I have talked it over and 
— well, you’ve been mighty kind to us. You’ve 
backed us up with a big loan, and I’ve taken up 
your valuable time asking advice until I’m 
ashamed.” He paused; then blurted out: 44 We 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 205 

can never repay you, but we’re everlastingly grate¬ 
ful. The car is yours, Mr. Corbin.” 

The old manufacturer looked his incredulity. 

66 You mean that you’re trying to give me this 

— this expensive plaything?” 

66 We do, yes — with our gratitude and thanks 

— if you’ll accept it. It isn’t much, considering, 
but — I guess you understand.” 

Joel Corbin did understand. He understood the 
magnificent gesture of youth’s giving, folly though 
it was. For an instant he had been on the verge 
of emphatic refusal. It was ridiculous that he, a 
millionaire time and again over, should accept this 
ill-afforded gift; equally ridiculous that the part¬ 
ners should feel so deeply indebted for the ser¬ 
vices he had gladly rendered them. 

But, too, Corbin was touched by the impulse of 
true friendship which lay behind Reese’s clumsily 
worded presentation. It was the first car. And 
the old manufacturer remembered well the deep 
emotions that had stirred within him when the first 
Corbin came completed from the assembly line. 
He remembered that — and the financial battle 
that had followed shortly after, leaving him trium¬ 
phant at last but with new lines in his seamed face 
and gray hair at his temples. He smiled involun¬ 
tarily in retrospect. He had won that fight against 
odds that would appal him now; he had won be¬ 
cause odds had had no significance for him then, 
because in his ignorance he had employed the unex¬ 
pected and audacious tactics which always confuse 


206 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


and confute the cumbersome systems of the strong. 

He faced Jack abruptly, smiling and holding out 
his hand. 

64 Thanks, Reese,” he said feelingly. 44 And 
thank your partner, Dejeans, for me too, please. 
You two have done something for me today that 
will remain one of my cherished memories as long 
as I live. I won’t forget.” 

Jack’s face lit up. He clasped the older man’s 
hand firmly, made a hurried excuse, and hastened 
off down the street. From the other’s long silence 
he had anticipated a disappointing refusal. But 
now he wanted no thanks. The gift, sacrifice 
though it represented, expressed only a small 
measure of his gratitude. 

Joel Corbin, from the sandstone steps of the 
Tres Arroyos Bank, watched the sturdy, alert figure 
swing from sight around a corner. His keen, 
probing eyes had become suddenly wistful and 
tired. Youth! What did it know of what awaited 
around the corner — or care? It gave generously, 
fought bravely, win or lose. But what could it 
lose half so valuable as the long span of years that 
lay before it? 

The old millionaire returned slowly to his office. 
On an impulse he took up the ’phone and put a 
long-distance call through to a Los Angeles stock 
broker who was to be trusted. 

44 Joel Corbin speaking,” he rasped, when the 
connection was made. 44 Let me know at once, 
please, if Reese-Dejeans stock begins to look un- 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


207 


stable. . . . No, I won’t be selling, but I want 
to keep closely in touch. . . . Yes, thanks; that’s 
all.” He hooked down the receiver with a grunt 
of satisfaction. With fingers tented, he sat back 
staring into space, his seamed face tranquil with 
the decision he had reached. 

But Reese was never to know what a powerful 
ally had determined to aid him if need arose. For 
in the partners’ darkest hour, Joel Corbin was to be 
likewise meeting his own desperate needs with all 
of his shaken resources. 


CHAPTER XVIII 


Corbin had indeed read aright the signs of a 
gathering tempest. With a sixth sense akin to 
that of a sailor, he had, as he said, smelt trouble. 
But he could not know that the powers behind the 
storm were aiming to sweep him into the vortex 
along with certain others. Moreover, during 
several following weeks the market exhibited a 
slight upward trend that was reassuring. Reese- 
Dejeans stock hovered around forty-one and a half, 
with little trading, while Corbin Motors continued 
active at a few points over a par of one hundred. 

It was the lull before the storm, actually. The 
Geneva Corporation, entrenched behind a huge 
cash reserve secretly accumulated, waited only for 
word from Barton Kline to begin the assault. 
That word came when Joel Corbin was suddenly 
taken to his bed with a severe attack of influenza. 
Geneva Motors struck instantly. 

Meanwhile, during the month or more elapsing 
between the presentation of the first Reese-Dejeans 
car to Corbin and the beginning of the raid by 
Geneva, Jack was swamped with the routine work 
such as is required to make smooth-running every 
new enterprise. Incompetents, shirkers and mal¬ 
contents had to be weeded ruthlessly from the first 
hastily assembled crew. And this process extended 
even into the executive and sales divisions. An 
208 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 209 

employee went if he failed to show adequate 
results. 

Then there was the delicate matter of eliminat¬ 
ing waste motion in production, of keying and 
interlocking the various departments to the highest 
pitch of efficiency. Certain machinery proved 
inadequate; crews were modified or enlarged; 
various steps in assembling were transposed to 
good advantage. At this sort of task, Reese had 
few peers. He understood production; he under¬ 
stood men. The factory, therefore, was soon per¬ 
meated with the maximum of efficiency, yet 
maintaining withal that invaluable and elusive 
quality of contentment and enthusiasm which was 
inspired by Jack’s happy personality. 

In no sense had he become the self-important 
young capitalist blinded by a half-success. The 
company’s neatly appointed main office was in a 
remodeled corner of the big warehouse; but Reese’s 
44 private ” office remained where it had been dur¬ 
ing the rush of construction — a roughly parti¬ 
tioned cubby-hole in the factory itself. A second¬ 
hand desk, a telephone, a couple of chairs and a 
filing cabinet comprised the main furnishings. 
And here in the din and beat of whirring lathes, of 
drill presses and drop forges, he was at home; the 
noise and orderly confusion of it all had become 
a part of his life. And it was here that Barton 
Kline was forced to seek him out for a memorable 
interview that prefaced only by hours the unleash¬ 
ing of Geneva Motors’ raid of destruction. 


210 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


That very morning Marcel and a trusted assist¬ 
ant had set out for the Capri Track, driving the two 
Reese-Dejeans racers which were shortly to com¬ 
pete in the next Girard Cup Race. Torrano, the 
crack Italian pilot, was already in San Francisco, 
waiting. Jack intended to go north the next day 
to act as Torrano’s team mate. 

Almost a year had rolled around since the tragic 
death of Big Jimmy Muldoon. The pulses of 
motordom were again quickening with the antici¬ 
patory thrill which only the hotly contested cup 
classic could arouse. But most of last year’s 
spectators had long since forgotten the name of 
the dead driver who had momentarily fed their 
jaded, excitement-hungry appetites. His memory 
remained only as an impersonal 66 thrill ” for 
which a stiff price had been paid in the purchase 
of seat reservations. 

Not so with Reese. Indefatigably he had con¬ 
tinued the search for evidence that would bring 
retribution upon those who had robbed Muldoon of 
his chance. Though the expense was prohibitive, 
as soon as he could at all afford it Jack had em¬ 
ployed a private detective agency to keep him 
informed of the movements of Muldoon’s pit crew. 
Four of the members had lost nothing through this 
scrutiny; the fifth recently had been commissioned 
to drive a Perris 66 one-man ” eight — a new 
Geneva product — during the present racing 
season! A promising lead upon which Jack built 
much hope for important developments. And 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


211 


added to that was the interesting report that Massey 
had barely escaped capture in Los Angeles the 
week before. A hot trail pointed northward. The 
neat fabric of Barton Kline’s weaving was at last 
beginning to show a flaw, an unsecured thread, 
here and there. 

But Kline, if he had any inkling of all this, 
exhibited no whit of uneasiness when he came to 
the factory to present a last-minute ultimatum to 
Reese. His customary savoir faire was much in 
evidence, his close-set hazel eyes blinked genially, 
and he had every appearance of a man well pleased 
with the world in general. He was. In fact, the 
business which brought him to see Reese was just 
the sort of thing he relished. If Jack surrendered 
on the terms to be set forth, it would be a crushing 
humiliation to remember a lifetime; if he stood 
gamely by his guns, the Geneva Corporation was 
prepared to ruin him without compunction. Kline 
stood to profit equally either way. 

He entered the dingy office, cast a patronizing 
glance about, spat the tip of a cigar into a corner, 
and clenched the weed unlighted between his teeth. 
Jack finished filing a number of papers. Then he 
straightened up, facing about toward the Geneva 
man. 

66 Well, what can I do for you, Kline?” he asked, 
glancing at the battered alarm clock ticking loudly 
above his desk. “ Please be brief. I have an im¬ 
portant business appointment in five minutes.” 

Barton Kline smiled heavily as he drew up a 


212 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


chair, dusted it with a dab of his handkerchief, 
and seated himself. He took his own time, bending 
forward at length with his pudgy hands supported 
on his knees. 

46 Reese,” he began, 44 1 don’t believe it will be 
to your advantage to hurry me. My business with 
you is probably as important as any you’ll transact 
for some time — quite some time.” 

Jack settled back in his chair with a cool grin. 

44 You may be right; life is fleeting, they say. 
So let’s get down to cases.” 

44 Exactly,” Kline approved. 44 1 suppose you 
know, to begin with, that I am entirely familiar 
with the financial status of this company. I know 
its assets and liabilities to a penny. I also know 
yours personally toy within a very few hundred 
dollars.’ 

44 Kind of you to take such an interest,” Jack 
murmured. 

44 1 know also,” the other continued impassively, 
44 that a well-directed bear attack on your stock 
could reduce you and your partner individually to 
bankruptcy in a fortnight or less. Probably less. 
You’ve borrowed liberally on your personal stock, 
and you won’t be able to cover if the market takes 
a sharp slump-” 

44 I’m watching all that,” Jack cut in airily. 
44 And there’s really nothing to worry about for the 
present. Reese-Dejeans stock has held steady at 
forty or thereabout for over two months now. But 
thanks for advising me,” 



THE CHECKERED FLAG 213 

Barton Kline’s fist smacked forcibly into his 
cupped palm. 

“ I’m not advising you. I’m warning you. I’m 
here to offer you a flat price to turn over your 
controlling interest immediately. Refuse if you 
want, but if you do you won’t get clear with any 
more than the clothes on your back!” His teeth 
bared in a sinister sort of smile. 44 I’ve got you 
where I want you at last, Reese. It’s take or break 
for you! And don’t imagine that you’ll get any 
backing from old man Corbin. As far as you’re 
concerned, his teeth are pulled. Corbin Motors 
will be well on the toboggan by the time the stock 
exchange closes this afternoon; and the old man 
will have to do some stiff scratching to keep from 
being snowed under before the month is out!” 

Jack apparently disregarded this. He laughed 
softly. 

66 And what do I save from the wreck if I accept 
your terms?” 

66 Fifty thousand dollars — no more, no less. 
But more than you could reasonably expect con¬ 
sidering the hole you’re in.” 

64 That’s one-tenth what it’s worth now,” Jack 
calculated quietly. 44 One-twentieth its value in 
another year if we win the Girard Race. But 
why?” 

44 Why what?” 

44 Why be so generous when you’ve got me cor¬ 
nered as you say? You’d much rather strip me of 
everything I own, Kline. You hate me. You 


214 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


always have. You’ve robbed me and cheated me 
and tricked me time and again! So why not finish 
the job up true to form? Why not be consistent 
instead of playing the Good Samaritan at the last 
by offering me ten cents on the dollar?” 

66 I’m talking business, not Sunday-school texts,” 
Kline growled. 66 The men whose interests I repre¬ 
sent are ready to pay you a fair amount as an 
inducement to step aside at once, of your own free 
will. Or they’re prepared to clean you out if 
necessary. But they can use their capital to good 
advantage in other quarters right now if you’re 
ready to be reasonable. That’s the reason for my 
offer.” He laughed harshly. 46 No sentiment 
attached to it at all, you see!” 

44 Yes, I see!” Jack flamed. 44 1 see that you’re 
offering me a bribe of fifty thousand dollars to 
stand aside so that Geneva Motors can concentrate 
its attack on my friend, Joel Corbin. You’ve let 
the cat out of the bag, Kline; I’m not quite a fool 
— or an ingrate, for that matter. And you 
haven’t got enough money to buy me off. I 
wouldn’t lay down to you if you offered me par 
for every share I own. And if you imagine you 
can pick up my plant here for a song, you’re 
welcome to try. But I’ll see you in hell before I’ll 
quit!” 

44 You’ll see yourself back in a suit of greasy 
overalls in a month if you don’t, you young fool!” 
Kline barked. 

44 And I may see you parading a suit of stripes 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


215 


up at San Quentin Prison before then, you sneak¬ 
ing crook!” Jack countered hotly, advancing men¬ 
acingly. “ Now you get out; get out and stay 
out!” 

Kline sprang from his chair. For a moment 
he stood his ground in the face of the other’s mina¬ 
tory advance. Then choking off a response at the 
beginning, he departed with such dignity as a 
wholly prudent haste would permit. 

Slamming the door, Jack reached for the tele¬ 
phone. 

66 Four-O-four,” he called the number of the 
Tres Arroyos Bank. 66 Emergency call!” 

But Joel Corbin was not at his office. The 
old manufacturer had gone home the previous 
morning with a sudden attack of influenza. He 
would be confined to his bed for several days, 
the bank cashier explained; but he might possibly 
be reached at his residence if the matter were 
urgent. 

There came a knock on the office door as Jack 
was ringing the Corbin home. 

“ Come in, come in!” he called with a sharpness 
unusual for him. “ I haven’t time to waste!” 

The door opened. Rita stood hesitant in the 
entrance, a glint of amusement in her eyes. Her 
simple serge suit, cut after the mannish mode in 
vogue, accentuated by contrast the sheer feminine 
loveliness that was hers. 

“ Yes, sir.” She nodded a demure greeting. 
66 Is this the president’s office?” 


216 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


Reese hooked down the receiver and quickly 
relinquished his place at the desk. 

46 This is it,” he laughed, amused by her pose. 
44 And a thousand pardons, Rita; I’m all up in the 
air right now. Sit down, won’t you? How is your 
father? I was just trying to get him on the ’phone.” 

The girl’s face sobered. 

44 He’s like a caged lion,” she confessed. 44 He 
won’t admit he’s ill, he won’t stay in bed; and 
heaven only knows what he’ll do if this stock raid 
on Corbin Motors becomes the tooth and nail fight 
he anticipates.” 

44 He’s right,” Jack said. 44 Barton Kline as 
much as admitted to me a few moments ago that 
Geneva Motors was out for your father’s scalp — 
and mine too, as a side issue. That’s why I was 
calling your home now — to warn your father and 
to ask him to put me in touch with a stock expert 
immediately. He told me over a month ago that 
he could find me such a man, and he warned me 
at the same time to keep close watch on market 
quotations. But he seems to have a more efficient 
source of information than mine.” His brows drew 
together with mystification. 44 1 looked at yester¬ 
day’s closing figures in the newspaper, and both 
Corbin Motors and our own issue seemed steady 
enough. And the stock exchange has been open less 
than an hour this morning. So I don’t see how he 
could know already what’s in the wind.” 

44 Corbin Motors has dropped from one hundred 
and one to ninety-seven this morning. Selling 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


217 


orders have been flooding in for nearly four hours 
— on the New York Exchange,” was Rita’s illumi¬ 
nating explanation. 44 Eastern time is earlier than 
ours, you know.” She delved into her purse and 
handed Reese a letter. 66 Dad didn’t forget that 
promise he made you. He received a long-distance 
call from a Los Angeles stock broker a few minutes 
ago regarding your stock; and he immediately 
hunted up a — a person whom he felt could be 
trusted to give you honest and — perhaps helpful 
advice.” Her cheeks flushed crimson. 64 But — 
but you mustn’t feel at all obliged to employ the 
one this letter suggests if she — if that person isn’t 
entirely satisfactory to you.” 

Puzzled by Rita’s evident confusion, Jack ex¬ 
cused himself and tore open the envelope enclos¬ 
ing a penciled note in Joel Corbin’s angular, 
decisive script. His puzzled frown was replaced 
by a smile of understanding as he read the open¬ 
ing sentences: 

“ My dear Reese: 

“ The bearer of this note is personally known to me to 
be of unimpeachable character. For over two years she 
has successfully managed considerable investments of 
her own, mainly stocks; and I confidently believe that 
she can give you all necessary advice and assistance in 
this present emergency. 

“And it is an emergency. Two hundred of your 
shares are offered this morning in Los Angeles at 38, 
fifty more at 37^. An unnatural drop. At 35 I would 
suggest that you start small purchases to protect the 
price — particularly to keep your numerous small stock- 


218 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


holders in line until you can hit back. If you have not 
made arrangements elsewhere already, Harmsworth & 
Co. in Los Angeles would be a reliable firm to handle 
the brokerage end of your campaign. I have spoken of 
you to them this morning, explaining the situation as 
best I could over the telephone. 

“ If these confounded doctors let up on me, I’ll hope 
to advise with you personally in a day or so — or as 
soon as some slight business difficulties of my own per¬ 
mit. Meanwhile, however, feel entirely free to call on 
me if you need further help. 

“ Sincerely and hastily, 

“Joel Corbin. 

“ P. S. The bearer is an extremely temperamental 
and positive young woman, used to having her own way. 
Trust you can make the necessary allowances in this 
respect if you see fit to employ her!” 

Reese looked up with a broad smile. 

66 You’re hired on your own terms, Rita,” he 
said. “ I’m surely grateful for your coming to my 
rescue this way. But you’ll have to take the lead. 
Frankly, this stock juggling is something I’m green 
as grass about.” 

And the girl did take the lead, efficiently and 
with confidence. She at once vetoed Jack’s sug¬ 
gestion that she make her headquarters in the 
main office. 

“ It’s comfortable here; and I don’t mind the 
noise,” she said. 66 And it might be bad for the 
plant morale to have the office force overhear tele¬ 
phone discussions and possibly spread rumors — 
even if unintentionally. I’m going to call Harms¬ 
worth & Co. first and ask them to ’phone in a 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 219 

market report every half hour. We’ll need that 
to keep posted by.” 

Reese waited beside her, before leaving to 
attend to some necessary plant affairs, while she 
held a lengthy long-distance conversation with the 
stock brokers. Her face was grave when she 
finished. 

66 The bottom hasn’t dropped out already, has 
it?” Jack queried with attempted gayety. 

66 Not quite that bad,” Rita replied quietly. 
“ But another two hundred shares has gone on the 
market at thirty-six and three-quarters.” 


CHAPTER XIX 


The following day saw the opening of the battle 
in earnest. Public interest attended particularly 
the conflict of the Titans — Geneva Motors and its 
subsidiaries massed on the one side; Joel Corbin 
and the major stockholders in Corbin Motors 
ranged in opposition. The Eastern concern, backed 
by certain Wall Street interests, was generally 
agreed upon as the ultimate winner. But not before 
a bitter, long-drawn-out struggle. For Joel Corbin 
had the confidence and support of influential Cali¬ 
fornia bankers, and his shrewdness and fighting 
qualities had been demonstrated to good advan¬ 
tage many times before. His first strategic move 
was to cut the price of the Corbin standard 46 six ” 
— one of the chief competitive thorns in Geneva’s 
side — one hundred dollars. When attacked, it 
was not the old manufacturer’s way to retreat; he 
carried the battle to the enemy! 

Dwarfed by comparison was the fight for con¬ 
trol of the Reese-Dejeans holding, though no less 
intensely contested. Among the unlisted securities, 
the outstanding portion of this stock was owned 
practically exclusively in southern California. 
Therefore the storm center of buying and selling 
naturally gravitated to Los Angeles. 

From there Harmsworth & Co. sent with clock¬ 
like regularity their semi-hourly reports to Reese 
220 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


221 


and Rita at Tres Arroyos. On these advices the 
campaign for survival was waged. The Geneva 
Corporation, with Joel Corbin engaged to the full 
against them, wasted no finesse in their assault on 
the partners. Through 66 dummies ” they owned 
much Reese-Dejeans stock in addition to that repre¬ 
sented by Barton Kline’s considerable block. This 
was thrown on the market. Prices broke rapidly. 
Investors were not interested in availing themselves 
of a falling market to buy into an unproved con¬ 
cern. And those who had purchased already with 
honest purpose through Davenport’s advertising 
campaign became at once potential allies of the 
Geneva Company. For as quotations dropped 
alarmingly, many of these were 66 smoked out ” and 
added their selling orders to a glutted market, 
where the partners were the only buyers. Entirely 
upon Reese and Rita devolved the Herculean task 
of keeping the stock from avalanching to a dis¬ 
astrous 64 low.” 

They met their problem as best they could. All 
of Jack’s and Marcel’s holdings went up as col¬ 
lateral to secure money borrowed on the closest 
margin they dared establish. With the proceeds 
thus obtained, Rita bought more stock, borrowed 
again on that, and bought again. 

But Reese-Dejeans stock continued to fall not¬ 
withstanding. In spite of all efforts to bolster it 
up, the decline continued. In three days it slumped 
to twenty-nine. Up to that time Rita had been buy¬ 
ing sparingly — just enough to retard the fall and 


222 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


keep the bottom from dropping out of the market. 
But at that figure she was compelled to purchase 
heavily, for at twenty-five — as her father had 
predicted a month before — the banks would be 
forced to close out the partners to protect them¬ 
selves. 

On the strength of these purchases, the price 
steadied momentarily. It even rallied a few points. 
But then more selling orders flooded in, and the 
downward march was resumed. But more slowly. 
On the fifth day of Geneva Motors’ drive — a Sat¬ 
urday— the market closed at twenty-seven and 
three-quarters. 

Rita breathed a sigh of relief when the Los 
Angeles brokers sent in this closing quotation at 
noon. Dark circles showed under her tired eyes; 
her shoulders drooped from the continued strain 
of five days of intensive effort. Jack had done 
what he could to help, but the main burden had 
been hers. And she was thankful — more thank¬ 
ful than she would have been willing to admit — 
for the over-Sunday reprieve which would give her 
tattered nerves and overtaxed body the needed time 
for recuperation. Monday, moreover, would see 
the staging of the final assault, she believed, and 
she would require all of her physical resources to 
meet it. As soon as Jack finished going through 
the mail just brought in by the office boy, she would 
ask him to drive her home, she decided. 

She watched him covertly as he worked, with 
an almost maternal interest. He was such a boy 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


223 


— so impetuous and independent. She wondered 
if he fully realized the desperate nature of his situ¬ 
ation. Hardly, she thought. He had such un¬ 
limited faith in her ability, a faith only matched 
by his sure belief in the Reese-Dejeans motor. He 
had never doubted that her assistance alone would 
bring him victory. How distressed and humiliated 
he would be then — even disappointed in her, per¬ 
haps — if he were to know that she had already 
made arrangements secretly to aid him financially 
when the climax came. She could not help him 
much; most of her personal fortune was in Corbin 
Motors, and that had been forced upon her unwill¬ 
ing father in the interests of the larger battle he 
was waging unfalteringly from a sick bed — so far, 
successfully. There wasn’t much left to draw on; 
only a few thousand. But she hoped it would help. 

A slow frown overspread Jack’s face as he ran 
through the last letter in the pile. His clouded 
eyes lifted from the page, dropping quickly again 
when he saw that Rita was watching. He tried 
bravely to smile. 

66 What is it, Jack?” she asked anxiously. 44 Is 
something wrong?” 

44 No, it’s nothing. Only a letter from Marcel — 
the first since he telegraphed that he reached the 
track safely. And everything is going along nicely, 
but — well, to tell the truth, I’d counted a lot on 
the new supercharger of ours to win the race for 
us, Rita,” he confessed. 44 And now Marcel writes 
that both the Fiat and Mercedes entries are 


224 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


equipped with practically the same improvement! 

I only wish I could-” He stopped, not wishing 

to distress the girl with the news that his immediate 
presence at the Capri Track was necessary — 
urgently so, if he were to hope to compete in the 
Girard Race with any chance of personal success. 
But Rita understood. 

“ You’ll have to go up there at once,” she pro¬ 
posed bravely. 66 1 can easily take care of the 
finish of this trouble down here-” 

“ Do you think you could, really?” Jack burst 
out eagerly. 66 But, no; it wouldn’t be right. It 
would be like deserting. I’m not much good here, 
I know, but ”— he swallowed hard — 66 I’m going 
to stay.” 

Rita came over close to him. 

“You’ve got to go, Jack — you must. In 
another way, the winning of the race is just as 
important as holding our own against Geneva 
Motors. You’ve got to win that race!” 

“ Torrano can do that for us if it’s humanly 
possible. He knows more about driving in a 
minute than I do-” 

“ But he doesn’t know a tenth what you do about 
the Reese-Dejeans motor,” Rita interrupted. “ He 
can’t possibly get as much out of it. And if the 
Fiat and Mercedes both have superchargers too, 
it’s bound to be nip and tuck. Besides,” she pre¬ 
varicated, “we’ve broken the backbone of the 
Geneva attack. They played their trump cards to 
win today, and they failed. Monday or Tuesday 





THE CHECKERED FLAG 225 ' 

will see us on safe ground again, I’m sure. So go, 
please; I want you to.” 

66 Well, if you’re sure,” Jack gave in gratefully, 
accepting Rita’s statement of the market situation 
without question. “ I wouldn’t for the world want 
to leave you to face the music alone if I could 
help in any way, but — frankly, I am needed 
up there. Marcel asked me to come at once.” 
He paused, doubtful again. 66 But perhaps I’d 
better stay over until Monday and see how things 
start breaking.” 

64 No.” Rita shook her head firmly. 46 They 
need you up at the track; you must leave early in 
the morning. This afternoon and tonight I’ll help 
you get things in shape to leave here; and we’ll 
work out a plan of campaign that will make my 
part easy.” She forced a gay, disarming smile. 

44 So that’s settled, and I’m going home to lunch 
with Dad. But we can make up for lost time by 
having dinner down town.” 

44 So be it then,” Jack agreed appreciatively. 

44 You’re a brick, Rita!” 

For the girl that afternoon and evening were 
interminable. Her whole being crying out for rest, 
for relaxation, perceiving clearly the tremendous 
crisis which would be hers to face alone on Monday, 
she yet accepted gladly the burden of a hundred 
and one other responsibilities which Jack gave 
without suspecting into her keeping. Practically, 
he was leaving the Reese-Dejeans factory under her 
management. Power of attorney, duly attested by 


226 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


a notary, was made over to her, along with authori¬ 
zation to sign checks. In a way it was all the most 
profound compliment Jack could accord her, thus 
trustfully giving her full sway over his financial 
destinies. And he did so without hesitation — 
taking at face value her assurance that the added 
labor and responsibility would be no strain upon 
her. 

But finally, at a late hour in the night, all plans 
and routine business details had been whipped 
into shape suitable for leaving in Rita’s care. 
Jack locked his old desk and handed the key to 
the girl. 

44 Here’s your scepter,” he laughed. 44 You’re 
monarch of all you survey.” 

44 Home, James,” Rita smiled. 44 That’s my first 
royal proclamation.” 

44 Tired?” he queried solicitously. 44 I’ll just bet 
you are-” 

44 No, only sleepy. It’s so quiet here in the 
factory with all the machinery still and no one 
about excepting the watchman.” 

Reese was concerned. With the future at stake, 
with time at a premium, no thought had entered his 
mind of any question attaching itself to their pres¬ 
ent situation — alone together in a deserted factory 
at near midnight, with only a watchman making his 
casual rounds from time to time. Even though 
he knew that the girl had intended no such sug¬ 
gestion, the thought distressed him. He told her as 
much. 



THE CHECKERED FLAG 


227 


“ I’m sorry, Rita,” he finished abjectly. 66 But 
somehow — well, you’ve been such a loyal pal 
and all that I never gave a thought to conventions. 
They just didn’t seem to exist.” 

Her tired eyes lifted and met his. He was 
dizzily aware of looking from an excessive height 
into the deeps of a soul unveiled and crystal-clear. 

66 They don’t exist, Jack — or shouldn’t,” she 
said quietly and with simple earnestness, 66 not 
when people understand each other as we do. It 
isn’t necessary to apologize. I’m glad that you 
could have felt that way.” 

Like the surging of a tempest over a storm-tossed 
ship, Reese’s pent-up emotions beat against the 
stubborn will to keep his love a secret. And like 
the crashing masts and tangled cordage that mark 
the triumph of the elements, this resolve was swept 
away. 

Rita had said that they understood each other. 
That was true. Why, then, should impending 
fortune or failure give pause to an unsaid phrase 
which would no more than voice this under¬ 
standing? He began to speak haltingly — trying 
to assemble his chaotic thoughts into some sem¬ 
blance of order. 

Suddenly he stopped. Into the factory had 
penetrated the sound of a muffled cry — an alarm, 
and at the same time a call for help! Jack sprang 
to the office door alertly, listening. For another 
tense moment endured a profound silence, intensi¬ 
fied by the eerie call preceding it. Then came the 


228 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


shattering echo of a revolver shot. Another moan¬ 
ing cry. Silence. 

Hand in hand with Rita, Jack raced down the 
aisles of machinery shrouded and ghostlike in the 
dull glow of the few incandescents left burning 
all night. As he threw back the door opening on 
the factory grounds, he heard off to the right the 
drone of a motor fleeing into the night. To the 
left, toward the frame warehouse, sounded the 
soft, sucking cough of a wounded man — shot 
through the lungs, Jack guessed. And from the 
center of the warehouse itself — where the paint 
shop and its highly inflammable materials were 
located — came the dull, angry glow of rising 
flames! 

With Rita huddled beside him, Jack paused 
momentarily, stricken in the doorway, to curse in¬ 
coherently Geneva Motors and Barton Kline, who 
— as if their dollars were not enough — sought 
further advantage with the torch of the incendiary 
and the lead of the murderer. 


CHAPTER XX 


Jack had hold of himself again in an instant. 

66 They’ve shot old Denny the watchman and 
fired the warehouse!” he cried. 46 I’ll see what’s 
to be done for him; and you—’phone for help as 
quickly as ever you can, Rita. You’re not squeam¬ 
ish about going back to the office alone, are you?” 

For answer she sped back into the factory 
gloom. Guided by weakening moans, Reese ran 
to where the wounded watchman lay huddled on 
the ground. The man was dying. But he was still 
conscious, and he strove desperately to speak. 
Jack eased him to a sitting position and that seemed 
something of a help. For a time, however, the 
tremulous lips formed only a meaningless mum¬ 
ble, choked upward from lungs seeped by internal 
hemorrhage. 

44 1 can’t understand you,” Jack said at last. 
44 Is it something you want to tell me? Can you 
hear me, Denny?” 

The gray head nodded slowly and painfully. 
And while precious moments that might have been 
used in urgent salvage work sped away, Jack 
waited patiently to hear. Finally, summoning the 
last remnant of his failing strength, the watchman 
spoke again — intelligibly. The words tripped out 
between lengthening pauses. 

44 Caught him — firebug — cornin’ from the 
229 


230 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


paint shop. Tall, skinny — feller — rat face. 
Seen him before — somewhere. Got to — get — 
him.” A red froth came to his lips as he tried 
gamely to arise. 

Jack held him back gently. 

“Plenty of time for that, Denny old man,” he 
soothed. “ You’ll have to take it easy now.” His 
voice became harsh and menacing. “ Massey will 
pay for all this, I’ll give you my promise.” 

“ Got to — get — him myself. My — job,” 
Denny iterated stubbornly, obsessed by the one 
idea of his duty. “ Got to — got — to — got —” 
The voice rose shrilly on the last faltering word. 
The body, straining weakly against Jack’s encir¬ 
cling arms, fell suddenly slack. The gray head 
drooped forward, a gasping rattle coming from 
the throat. The glaring headlights of an ambu¬ 
lance, answering Rita’s summons with a speed 
unavailing against the hand of death, swept into 
stark relief the sad tableau of a faithful servant’s 
passing: A still form being laid back to rest on 
the spring green of the factory quadrangle by a 
bleak-eyed man whose features mirrored a grim 
determination and hatred no more cold and im¬ 
mobile than the murdered watchman’s face. 

In the space of minutes the quadrangle became a 
bedlam of noise and confusion. The ambulance 
hastened away with its burden, making way for the 
clanging apparatus of the Tres Arroyos Fire De¬ 
partment. Webs of hose appeared by magic, lead¬ 
ing from hydrants into the billowing smoke and 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


231 


flames. A fire engine, pumping madly, sucked 
salt water from the edging harbor and shot a power¬ 
ful stream onto the blaze. A dozen willing volun¬ 
teers assisted Jack in saving the office records. 
Several Reese-Dejeans touring cars, ready for ship¬ 
ment, were rolled from under the sagging roof in 
the nick of time. 

But otherwise the desperate fight was unavailing. 
The core of the blaze could not be reached. And 
a stiff sea breeze swept the flames along the shingled 
roof implacably. Smothered in one place, the fire 
raged with increasing fury elsewhere, mocking the 
deluge of water. And within the paint shop explod¬ 
ing barrels of oil and varnish and benzine threw 
sprays of molten flame to every side. 

With gray dawn the holocaust was at an end. 
Hosemen still played their streams over the smok¬ 
ing ruins, wetting down the ashes; but there re¬ 
mained nothing to be saved. The twisted skeletons 
of body frames and chassis obtruded through 
the charred embers that had been the storage place 
of surplus stock. Blown cans and hoops, eaten 
half away, marked the remains of the paint shop, 
where the heat had been the most intense. An add¬ 
ing machine, standing grotesquely on splayed-out 
metal legs, formed a worthless gravestone over the 
otherwise obliterated office. Two hundred thousand 
dollars — only partially protected by insurance — 
had gone up in smoke. The fireproof factory still 
stood undamaged, but that was worthless without 
the auxiliary building which was no more. The 


232 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


Reese-Dejeans factory would have to shut down 
for the time being; production must cease until 
insurance could be adjusted and a new and smaller 
assembly plant be erected. And worst of all, for 
the present, this disaster was bound to cause a 
further slump in stock quotations. 

All these things Jack perceived as he and Rita, 
side by side, ended their sad vigil in a smoke- 
shrouded Sabbath dawn. The girl had stood 
staunchly by throughout the long hours of the 
night, refusing to desert. And now was the zero 
hour for which she had remained. For as the rising 
tide of morning light revealed more and more the 
stark completeness of the ruin, the moment had 
come, she knew, when even Jack’s paramount faith 
and courage must stand the test of a creeping, 
insidious despair. 

66 Jack!” she breathed softly. 

He started. A film seemed to drop from his 
eyes as he turned toward her. 

64 What is it?” he asked blankly. 44 I didn’t hear 
you, Rita.” 

44 That adding machine over there,” she nodded, 
smiling. 44 Isn’t it too funny? Can’t you imagine 
the manufacturers featuring it in a big magazine 
ad, with a caption like this: 4 Our sterling model 
6F. Even the destruction by fire of the Reese- 
Dejeans assembly plant and office couldn’t upset 
it!”’ she extemporized. 44 4 Below, Mr. Jack Reese, 
who credits it as the inspiration that enabled him 
to win the Girard Cup Race!’ ” 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 233 

A slow smile broadened over Jack’s cinder- 
smudged face. 

46 Come on; I’m going to take you home,” he 
laughed. 66 As an advertising genius, you fail to 
register, Rita. But,” he added keenly, 64 the moral 
hits the spot!” 

46 Then,” the girl queried anxiously, 44 you’ll 
go up to the track today or tomorrow as we 
planned? You’ll drive the race?” 

44 Absolutely! I’m leaving this morning, as soon 
as I’ve taken you home and told our sales manager 
how to go about cleaning up the business end of 
this mess. He’ll have to shoulder a part of the 
extra burden along with the rest of us.” Reese’s 
jaw was set. Rita’s laughing quip had bridged for 
him the breaking point. He was ready to carry on 
again — to a finish. 44 We’ve got to play to the 
grandstand from now on, first of all, to keep our 
distributors in line,” he continued purposefully. 
44 We’ve got to win the race. And if you can only 
keep us out of bankruptcy meanwhile, Rita, we’ll 
still pull through. Because we’re going to win the 
Girard Race!” 

Jack was still buoyed up by this self-imposed 
promise when he boarded a late morning train 
northbound to San Francisco and the Capri Speed¬ 
way. His leavetaking of Rita had been of the 
briefest: A hesitant good-by at the Corbin door, 
a parting exchange of understanding glances from 
weary eyes. 

44 Good luck, Jack,” Rita said. 44 And remem- 


234 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


ber that I’m expecting you to capture the checkered 
flag. That’s what they always use, isn’t it, to 
signify the winner?” 

64 I’m not certain yet,” Reese smiled; 44 but I’ll 
know for sure after I’ve run my last lap — home, 
here, to — to thank you for all you’ve done for 
me.” 

That was all. But the memory of it, of Rita’s 
quickly downcast eyes and murmured farewell, 
remained with Jack as a talisman during all of the 
difficult days that followed. 

Late Monday morning, after a refreshing night’s 
rest in San Francisco, he accompanied Marcel out 
to the track. The little Frenchman had been horri¬ 
fied at news of the disastrous fire, but he shared 
Jack’s belief that Sam Massey could not much 
longer elude the dragnet spread to effect his cap¬ 
ture. He had escaped the Tres Arroyos police 
doubtless through an intimate knowledge of the 
surrounding country, but to elude the detection 
forces of an entire State was quite another ques¬ 
tion for the fugitive murderer to solve. 

“He ees as good as caught zis time,” Dejeans 
prophesied; 64 and zen ze rat will talk to save 
maybe ze neck!” He went through a vivid panto¬ 
mime of attaching a hangman’s noose. 44 Me, I 
t’ink it ees Monsieur Kline will not sleep so well 
after zat — in jail!” 

44 1 hope you’re right,” Jack said, 44 for Denny’s 
sake and Muldoon’s. And after the race, I hope, 
we’ll be able to offer a big enough reward to 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


235 


make the police step livelier. Right now, though, 
we haven’t a dollar to spare. In fact, if we don’t 
have a lucky break, it’s very possible we’ll be closed 
out by our creditors before the race. Our stock 
has dropped ’way down, and people in general — 
and our stockholders in particular — naturally take 
that to mean that our car is no good. We can’t 
publish the inside story, of course, and Geneva 
Motors is playing all its cards to finish us off 
before we get the chance to prove ourselves in the 
race. Rita — Miss Corbin is doing her best to 
keep us off the rocks meanwhile; but it’s going to 
be a mighty close shave for us the next two weeks, 
any way you look at it.” 

The little Apache cast a sharp glance at his 
worried partner. He made no answer, but his 
small gimlet eyes narrowed abruptly in some sort of 
shrewd calculation, and his nervous body remained 
hunched forward in a humorous posture of con¬ 
centration until the track was reached. There he 
hurried ahead of Reese to the pits, where Torrano 
was already tuning up in preparation for his daily 
practice run. The diminutive dark Frenchman and 
the blond Italian — close friends already — en¬ 
gaged in a short, low-voiced conversation. Tor¬ 
rano nodded shortly and with a quick word of 
instruction sent his grinning mechanician off on an 
errand. Marcel rejoined Reese, whom he led, 
vouchsafing no explanation, back through the tun¬ 
nel and up into the deserted grandstand. 

66 Wait!” he said, pointing. 


236 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


Torrano was cutting out onto the track in his 
Reese-Dejeans racer. Beside him in the cockpit 
sat his mechanician, returned from his errand to 
the friendly official timekeeper — who had since 
loitered to a post beside the starting bridge in 
company with a couple of reporters detailed to 
cover track happenings. 

The racer glided away down the stretch, round¬ 
ing the bowl at an ever-increasing pace. As it 
blurred past the grandstand again, Torrano raised 
a signaling hand. The waiting timekeeper clicked 
down the lever of his stopwatch. With a drumming 
roar, the racing car swept on. Three times more it 
passed under the starting bridge before the Italian 
waved another careless signal to the “ docker ” and 
coasted on in a final lap back to the pits. 

66 Sacre damn!” Marcel cried admiringly, 66 zose 
Wop ees ze one beeg fool for speed, eh?” 

66 He knows his business,” was Jack’s sufficient 
compliment, “ and he surely turned a couple of 
mighty good laps. But why arrange the demonstra¬ 
tion all for my benefit, Marcel?” 

“Voila! you shall see!” Dejeans hastily led 
the way back to the infield. With a wide grin, he 
hailed one of the reporters hurrying off to a tele¬ 
phone. “ Somezine doing?” 

“ Something is right, Frenchy!” the other re¬ 
sponded amiably. 66 That crazy Dago has busted 
all track records wide open, that’s all — two 
seconds to the good almost, the timekeeper says!” 

Jack was duly elated; but he was not to appreci- 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


237 


ate fully until he next saw Rita what an invaluable 
service Torrano had rendered him through Marcel’s 
shrewd intercession. News of the record-breaking 
three laps was a feature story in all the Monday 
newspapers appearing from noon on. It immedi¬ 
ately installed the Reese-Dejeans piloted by the 
Italian as an even favorite with the sensational 
Fiat to take first honors. It gave the car thousands 
of dollars worth of free advertising. And, most 
important for the moment to the partners, to a large 
extent it nullified the moral effect of the assembly 
plant’s destruction; it heartened the few 66 die 
hard ” stockholders who had thus far refused to 
sacrifice their investment to hold on until after 
the Girard Race at least. 

Actually, these few shareholders now held the 
balance of power which could make or break Jack 
and Marcel. On Saturday Geneva Motors had 
exhausted the last of their holdings in a bombard¬ 
ment that had just fallen short of swamping the 
market. In this they had been tremendously 
assisted — as anticipated — by the widespread 
panic arising among the less courageous investors 
in Reese-Dejeans stock. And the firing of the ware¬ 
house had been the final ruthless move to stampede 
the stubborn few. 

But the news of Torrano’s amazing feat fore¬ 
stalled this in the nick of time. Balancing pre¬ 
cariously Monday noon at twenty-six — held at 
that only by the employment of all but a fraction 
of the few thousand Rita and her brother Gordon 


238 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


had scraped together for the secret purpose of 
assisting Jack — the market suddenly steadied, 
became dormant. The few outstanding selling 
orders were hastily canceled. And Rita’s bid of 
twenty-six and one-half for fifty shares, offered as 
a feeler just before the exchange closed, went 
begging. 

Geneva Motors and Barton Kline had failed for 
the time in their drive to sell out the partners for a 
song. Upon the result of the Girard Race would 
hinge the ultimate destiny of Reese and Marcel 
Dejeans. If they won, this tentatively reestablished 
confidence in their product would mean a decided 
advance in the market value of their stock; it 
would mean that the Geneva Corporation’s unscru¬ 
pulous scheming to ruin them would result only 
in giving them practically complete ownership of 
outstanding shares at a fraction of their worth! 
On the other hand, failure in the cup classic would 
cause a sure drop in the market, bringing total loss 
of their holdings to the partners! 

Rita’s letters to Jack made clear the decisive 
nature of the impending race; and he, with 
strengthened optimism, bent every effort toward 
driving it as a worthy team mate of the dare-devil 
Torrano. For his part, the Italian was amazed at 
Reese’s instinctive mastery of the fine points of 
track craft. It was not too much to hope, he soon 
predicted, that two Reese-Dejeans racers would 
finish in the money; but then — a Latin shrug — 
the unexpected must be expected in the racing 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


239 


game. There were other fast entries to be con¬ 
sidered besides the Fiat, a sister car to the season’s 
champion on the Continental speedways. 

Aside from the daily grind in preparation for 
the cup classic, however, Reese found his spare 
hours full to overflowing with a multitude of tasks. 
Rival architects were already submitting rough 
drafts of plans for the new assembly plant, and 
these had to be given tentative approval or rejec¬ 
tion. Then there were two or three evening con¬ 
ferences with the underwriters before a satisfactory 
settlement of the large insurance claim could be 
effected. And it was a rare occurrence for Jack 
not to find at least one drummer for mechanical 
or office equipment awaiting him in the lobby of 
the modest San Francisco hotel where he and 
Marcel were staying. 

But all this rested lightly on Reese’s shoulders. 
For he was daily becoming more sanguine of 
victory in the Girard Race. Torrano continued 
reeling off laps at close to record time; and day 
by day Jack crowded his team mate more closely 
in the practice brushes the likable Italian 
delighted to test his mettle with. And the Reese- 
Dejeans, thanks to its superior type of super¬ 
charger, had demonstrated from the first that it 
had the fastest 66 pick-up ” of any car on the 
speedway. 

Reese was not overconfident. He was more 
than qualified to judge the merits of his motor 
and his own ability as a pilot. Against more than 


240 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


one German Flying Circus — with death the 
penalty for error — lie had gauged to the saving 
fraction the power of rival motors and the man¬ 
euvering skill of guiding hands. 

With racing experts in general also according 
the Reese-Dejeans at least a fifty-fifty chance of 
winning, Jack was not surprised to receive word 
from C. J. Gilpin that he would attend the race. 
The wealthy distributor proposed to combine pleas¬ 
ure with business, however, his long night letter to 
Reese revealed. He would attend the race and im¬ 
mediately thereafter embark on a long-projected 
ocean trip through the Panama Canal back to New 
York. The Prince Rupert sailed at six from San 
Francisco, making a connection too close for the 
transaction of business immediately following the 
race. Could Reese and his partner, therefore, con¬ 
venience him by accompanying him as his guests as 
far as Los Angeles, where the Rupert touched en 
route, for the purpose of closing their proposed 
contract? 

Jack accepted this proposal gladly — though he 
thought at the time, with ironic amusement, that 
Gilpin’s reception of his guests might be far from 
cordial if victory failed them; and in that event, 
of course, no contract would be forthcoming. How¬ 
ever, the distributor’s whims must be given con¬ 
sideration, so Reese sent an affirmative answer. 
Moreover, this arrangement gave him the oppor¬ 
tunity to do a good turn for his hustling San 
Francisco agent. He had previously planned that 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


241 


he and Marcel should drive the two racers back to 
Tres Arroyos and store them there until the next 
racing season. But Gilpin’s invitation permitted 
him to offer the cars to the local agency for dis¬ 
play purposes. 

The delighted agent, in return, insisted that the 
partners accompany him out to one of the famous 
cafes on the Beach for an informal banquet the 
night before the race. Inasmuch as Marcel was 
keen for it and the two racing cars were under close 
and efficient guard, Jack agreed; his own nerves, 
too — keyed to the highest pitch by these last hours 
of waiting — would benefit as much as those of the 
dynamic little Frenchman through the diversion, he 
felt. 

After an enjoyable evening of cabaret entertain¬ 
ment, the local distributor returned them to their 
hotel at shortly before midnight in the agency 
66 demonstrator.” But before either of them could 
clamber from the touring car, a bell-hop on watch 
for that purpose espied them and came running out 
to the curb. 

66 Here’s a telegram for you, Mr. Reese!” he 
said, proffering the yellow envelope. 66 And they’ve 
been ringing you for almost an hour over long 
distance from Los Angeles. They offered the clerk 
fifty dollars if he could locate you at once!” 

Reese handed the boy a tip and hastily slit open 
the envelope. The message was from Joel Corbin, 
characteristically brief and to the point. A low 
ejaculation — almost a moan — escaped Jack’s 


242 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


tightening lips as he read, first to himself, then 
aloud to Marcel: 

“ Rita missing since late afternoon. Trail clear to Los 
Angeles in company of man answering Massey’s descrip¬ 
tion. Meet me at Clark Hotel there at earliest possi61e 
moment. 


44 Joel Corbin.” 


CHAPTER XXI 


Jack wasted no time in useless speculation about 
the whys and wherefores of Rita’s mysterious dis¬ 
appearance. He gave no thought to the great sacri¬ 
fice involved in a prompt response to Joel Corbin’s 
urgent plea for aid. Only the girl mattered now 
— her safety; and whatever he could do would be 
done gladly, unhampered by any petty regard for 
his own uncertain fortunes. 

66 I’ve got to get to Los Angeles,” he said simply, 
64 at once, the fastest way possible.” 

64 But good Lord, man!” the agent remonstrated; 

44 you’ll miss the race if you go! You’ll-” 

44 I’m going!” Reese cut in grimly. 44 I’ve got 
to; I want to. You don’t know what this means to 
me, Benson. You don’t know Massey — a desper¬ 
ate murderer, capable of anything! I’ve got to go; 
and God knows I can’t get there half soon enough 


But the agent was already sliding from the seat 
of the demonstration car. Reese’s brief explana¬ 
tion was enough to have enlisted all his support. 

44 Pile in! You’re a racing driver,” he said, 
44 and here’s the fastest stock car on the Coast. 
Burn the rubber off her, I won’t give a damn. 
Give her the gun and let her rip, buddy! Get 
moving!” 

Jack didn’t attempt to offer thanks. A quick, 

243 




244 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


firm handclasp, a flashing glance of gratitude, and 
he was behind the wheel of the low-hung touring 
car. 

66 Gas?” Marcel shrilled the question as he 
swung onto the running board. 

“ Almost full,” the agent shouted above the 
rumble of a motor already under way. 

Shaking free of the traffic on Market Street, the 
Reese-Dejeans gradually picked up a racing speed. 
Through the night its powerful headlights blazed a 
way down the curving reaches of smooth highway 
that marked the beginning of the coast route to Los 
Angeles. Towns flashed behind at frequent inter¬ 
vals — a blur of arc lamps along practically de¬ 
serted streets. Then rapid acceleration, a faster 
lifting and falling of smooth-sliding pistons, a 
louder drone from the unfaltering motor. Faster 
and faster. 

There was no sensation of unusual speed. The 
low-hung machine held smoothly to its course. The 
miles slid behind in less than an equal number of 
minutes. A funnel of light bored far ahead into 
the distances still to be traversed. Darkness closed 
instantly upon the wake of the flying Reese- 
Dejeans. 

Jack held the wheel effortlessly. He was forc¬ 
ing the car to its utmost, but the passing hours 
revealed no weakening in either slave or master. 
Not one only, but both, seemed made of untiring 
steel. The mechanical perfection of one was 
matched by the grim determination of the other. 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


245 


He must get to his destination in time, must save 
Rita. Over and over this repeated itself, like an 
endless chant, to the rhythmic diapason of the 
motor plunging him every minute more than a 
mile closer to his goal. 

Every minute! But the minutes were as end¬ 
less as the miles. And what if he were too late? 
But he mustn’t be! Rita, beckoning, expectant, 
trustful of his coming, filled his mind, flashed 
before his eyes like a mirage — and like a mirage 
retreated away and away. Jack did not know, as 
he followed the specter, of the curves he took at a 
giddy angle, nor did he feel the accompanying 
sidewise 66 roll ” that sometimes made even his 
hard-bitten little companion wince. But Marcel 
said nothing of this then or thereafter; there was 
good reason for haste and — voila !— weren’t they 
partners? 

At something after two o’clock a stop for gaso¬ 
line was made; again shortly before dawn. On 
each occasion Marcel suggested that he be given 
a turn at the wheel. And each time a negative 
shake of the head was the only answer given him. 
As Los Angeles drew near, however, Jack was 
forced to slacken his breakneck pace. But not¬ 
withstanding, the dust-coated touring car pulled up 
before the Clark Hotel as dawn was breaking. 

Hatless and disheveled, followed by Marcel, 
Reese burst into the hotel lobby, aroused the dozing 
night clerk ungently and demanded that Mr. Corbin 
be notified instantly of his arrival. 


246 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


46 He’s expecting me,” Jack said. 44 Please 
hurry!” 

For what seemed an interminable time the clerk 
fussed with his index file. Then he looked up, 
puzzled. 

44 We have no Mr. Corbin for a guest at present,” 
he said. 44 Are you sure you have the right hotel?” 

44 Positive!” But to make doubly sure, Reese 
snatched the crumpled telegram from his pocket 
and spread it out. 44 Clark Hotel; there it is,” 
he pointed. 44 He must be here!” 

44 Sorry,” the other replied, 44 but we have no 
record at all of his registering. Possibly he was 
delayed.” 

44 Maybe ze telephone, eh?” Marcel suggested, 
meeting Jack’s bewildered glance. 

Jack nodded and hurried off to one of the public 
’phone booths, where he called the Corbin home in 
Tres Arroyos. It seemed a silly thing to do under 
the circumstances; but in this last perusal of the 
telegram from Rita’s father he had noted that the 
sending point was Tres Arroyos. And there might 
be something in the clerk’s suggestion of a delay. 
Joel Corbin had by no means fully recovered from 
his recent illness, Jack knew, and his recuperative 
energies were still being exhausted in the pro¬ 
longed battle with Geneva Motors. It was pos¬ 
sible, then — more than possible — that this 
excitement attending Rita’s disappearance had 
brought on- 

A sleepy voice was answering across the wire. 



THE CHECKERED FLAG 


247 


“ Has Mr. Corbin started for Los Angeles yet?” 
Jack demanded anxiously. 66 Has he-?” 

66 Mr. Corbin?” the other repeated dumbly. 

“ Yes, where is he? Good God, can’t you —!” 
Reese fell back, mouth agape, at the interrupting 
reply. 64 In bed — asleep? Impossible! Why—” 

44 Who is this speaking, please?” the annoyed 
voice from the Corbin mansion insisted. 

44 Mr. Reese.” Jack began a rapid explanation, 
but was again interrupted shortly. It seemed that 
there must be some grave mistake — the butler 
was more gracious now that he knew with whom he 
was conversing — for Miss Corbin was also asleep! 
She had retired at shortly after ten! But per¬ 
haps Mr. Reese would like to speak to her per¬ 
sonally to assure himself of her safety? 

Jack would care to — and did. And in a matter 
of moments the whole grisly hoax was exposed; 
and its sinister purpose as well. The telegram had 
been sent by some one unknown to prevent the 
partners from competing in the Girard Cup Race, 
to lure them so far away that their chance of 
returning to the Capri Track in time for the start¬ 
ing of the event would be infinitesimal! 

But Reese refused to accept defeat. He refused 
to consider Rita’s plea that he was exhausted from 
the long drive south (she was curiously insistent 
about fixing the exact time and circumstance of his 
leaving San Francisco, he thought); and he re¬ 
fused to admit that he couldn’t return to the track 
in time to drive the race. Now that Rita was 



248 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


safe, a hot flame of anger was surging through him. 
He had been tricked and cheated of his chance 
by — who else could it be but Barton Kline? 
And he had fallen into the trap like an idiot. But 
there was still a slim chance of turning the tables, 
and that slight chance he proposed to play to the 
limit. 

66 I’m going to try to make it back in time, 
Rita,” he told her. 66 1 can’t quit cold. Good-by.” 
He missed the faint answer returned to him. He 
was already running toward the hotel entrance. 

But Jack found as the morning progressed that 
speed was unavailing where it must be held in 
check. During the first hours progress was satis¬ 
factory; but after the sun was well up, sixty miles 
an hour was the maximum pace he dared set. 
Often considerably less. Traffic was heavy on 
some stretches. Motorcycle officers patrolled others. 
And it became imperatively necessary to stop for 
some sort of hasty meal. 

On reaching Santa Barbara, Reese was forced to 
admit the absurdity of his impossible attempt. 

66 We’re beaten to a frazzle, Marcel!” he smiled 
gamely. “ I was a fool ever to try it, but I was 
seeing red for a while there. Anyhow, they can’t 
rob us of our appetites. Let’s eat! Then we’ll 
tool up to the track in time to see Torrano bring 
home the bacon.” 

66 Ze whole peeg!” Marcel grinned. 66 Me, it ees 
zat I am ’ongry enough to eat even ze damn’ Boche 
sausage now. And zose Wop will win, Jacques,” 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


249 


he tried to hearten his disappointed partner. 64 Wiz 
any car, he ees good; wiz ze Reese-Dejeans — 
pouf!—he ees ir-re-zeestable!” 

Marcel’s prophecy proved at least half true when 
the Capri Track was finally attained, after a fur¬ 
ther setback in the schedule on the congested 
Peninsula highway. For with only twenty-five laps 
to go, the Reese-Dejeans and the Fiat were running 
almost a dead heat! Both had lapped the field 
time and again. Both had been favored so far with 
perfect racing luck. At no time had more than a 
minute separated the two! The most spectacular 
duel in the history of speedway racing was drawing 
rapidly to a close with no more than a hundred 
yards dividing the maroon Reese-Dejeans and the 
once-white Fiat. And Torrano, waving a nonchalant 
hand to the madly cheering stands at every circuit, 
was leading! 

Twenty laps to go and only two lengths divided 
the roaring monsters! One length after five more 
grueling circuits. Torrano was waving no more. 
He was bent over his wheel, fighting for every 
opening that would increase his lead an inch, hold 
it, even. The spectators were on their feet, shout¬ 
ing hoarse encouragement. 

Back by the pits Reese and Marcel watched 
silently. This matter of a few dividing feet was 
too supremely important to their futures for them 
to rise to any of this holiday exuberance. On it 
depended an order for one hundred cars a month, 
the difference between assured and immediate sue- 


250 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


cess and a slow upbuilding process, hampered by 
a top-heavy debt which might still bring them to 
ruin if victory failed them. 

Torrano clung stubbornly to his lead as the 
Reese-Dejeans and the Fiat flashed under the start¬ 
ing bridge into the last lap. Wide open they swept 
past, the Italian hugging the inner rail, the Fiat 
tailing him in the next lane. At the far turn Tor¬ 
rano swung out to pass the Perris — Geneva 
Motors’ entry, which still held on though hope¬ 
lessly outclassed. But as the Reese-Dejeans swung, 
the Perris swung also — crowding the Italian up¬ 
ward toward the curving shoulder of the bowl in 
a gross violation of track rules. The Fiat dropped 
to the empty lower rail and sped on. 

So did Torrano! After his first moment of 
confusion at seeing the Perris come quartering 
toward him, he steadied into a new lane and 
plunged straight ahead! Then the driver of the 
Perris lost his nerve. To avoid collision with the 
Italian, who stood ready to forfeit his life rather 
than be further victimized, he swung desperately 
away. 

A groan went up from the spectators. Came the 
crash of rending, sundering metal! The Perris, 
steering knuckle broken by the sudden strain, 
rolled over and over from the track, coming finally 
to rest, a broken, crumpled thing, not more than 
a hundred feet from where Big Jimmy Muldoon 
had lost his life the year before! The driver, 
once faithless to Muldoon’s trust in him, now hid- 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


251 


den somewhere under that tangle of metal, had 
been visited with a retribution for which not even 
the Geneva Corporation’s gold could repay him. 

Torrano drove on to a finish — a length behind 
the Fiat. 


CHAPTER XXII 


Second! A few thousand dollars. Hardly 
enough to have paid the construction cost of one 
of the Reese-Dejeans racers — even were it not 
all, and more, to revert to Torrano as the price of 
engaging him for pilot. And the Italian had 
earned his reward in full measure: Jack did not at 
all begrudge him his pay. The thought that 
rankled and ate deep was that first place had 
been lost not through lack of ability or a failing 
motor, but through a deliberate foul; that the 
driver of the Perris eight, dead though he now 
was, had purchased with his life another potential 
victory for the Geneva Company. 

Reese-Dejeans stock might go up, notwithstand¬ 
ing. It probably would react upward to a certain 
degree now. But there would be no notable advance 
such as victory and the consequent flat guarantee 
from C. J. Gilpin could have brought. It would 
take years of the hardest work, two or three at the 
least, Jack estimated, to gain the advantage that 
a single stroke of Gilpin’s pen might have given 
instantly. Meanwhile, Rita — it wouldn’t be right 
to ask or expect her to wait. Especially as Geneva 
Motors might yet strike deeply against the part¬ 
ners, what with small production at first hardly 
profitable enough to repay the interest on a debt 
greatly enlarged through recent stock purchases. 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


253 


Engrossed in these moody speculations, Jack 
followed Marcel from the Capri Track and accom¬ 
panied him, without enthusiasm, to the San 
Francisco pier from which the Prince Rupert 
was to sail within the next half hour. They went 
aboard immediately; and by the time they had 
stowed away their luggage in the comfortable 
stateroom allotted to them, the Rupert was backing 
into the channel. 

Reese’s wonted cheerfulness began to revive. He 
was about to propose to Marcel that they take a turn 
around the deck to brace themselves for the im¬ 
pending interview with Gilpin when a steward 
came to the door. 

66 Mr. Gilpin in 413 has asked to see you gentle¬ 
men immediately,” he delivered his message. 
46 Rather in a hurry, he said he was.” 

Reese and Dejeans exchanged understanding 
glances. 

44 Well,” Jack smiled thinly, 44 guess we might 
as well get the agony over with first as last, Mar¬ 
cel. And C. J. evidently feels the same way about 
it. So here goes!” 

In a few moments they were knocking at the door 
of the wealthy distributor’s cabin. 

44 Come in!” a testy voice called; and the part¬ 
ners filed into the room, heads up and shoulders 
thrown back unconsciously, as if they were enter¬ 
ing a prison death chamber where theirs must be 
the part of doomed men meeting death unflinch¬ 
ingly. 


254 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


With such anticipation, at least in effect, C. J. 
Gilpin proved to their first glance to be grossly 
miscast for the role of executioner. The wealthy 
distributor, tall, and dyspeptic-looking, with a 
sparse tangle of gray hair fringing his skull, lay 
full length on his berth sucking a lemon! 

Jack introduced himself and his partner. Gil¬ 
pin answered with a curt nod, without so much as 
rising to a sitting position. Nor did he apologize 
for the omission. 

66 Nothing like a lemon to stave off seasickness,” 
he mumbled. 66 But it always gets me more or 
less the first day or so out. Have to take pre¬ 
cautions. But guess we can settle our business 
before I succumb. Open that suitcase there, please, 
and hand me the large envelope you’ll find right 
on top.” 

64 I’m sorry, Mr. Gilpin,” Jack began, handing 
over the bulky packet. 44 Having seen the race, 
you know of course that Torrano was deliberately 
fouled for the purpose of preventing his winning 
first place. But I suppose you think it peculiar, 
at the least, that I forfeited my own chance, what¬ 
ever it was. I want to explain-” 

44 Not at all required!” Gilpin rasped. 44 Saw it 
all in the paper before the race-” 

44 In the paper?” Jack echoed. 

44 Of course! All of them featured it, naturally. 
There’s one sticking in my overcoat pocket if you 
haven’t seen it yet. Must have driven like the 
devil to get back here to meet me. Rather sur- 




THE CHECKERED FLAG 


255 


prised. Grateful to you, too, I must say.” A 
grimace that might have been intended as a wink 
contorted the visible side of Gilpin’s face. 64 Good 
heads you boys have on your shoulders. Great 
advertising stunt. Worth thousands, and you got 
it gratis. A new wrinkle in the prima donna’s 
lost-jewel gag, eh?” he rattled on. 44 But you had 
to deliver the goods to get away with it. That 
record will stand for years.” 

With a muttered apology, Jack opened Gilpin’s 
newspaper while the latter was busying himself 
with the documents in the envelope. He was com¬ 
pletely at sea to find rhyme or reason for the older 
man’s bewildering remarks. But only until the 
paper was spread out before him. Fronting him 
was his own picture — one evidendy rescued from 
wartime files in a newspaper 44 morgue.” Above 
was the caption: 44 American Ace Shatters All 
San Francisco—Los Angeles Speed Records In 
Daring Midnight Dash!” 

A sudden light dawned on Reese. Now he knew 
the reason for Rita’s peculiar insistence last night 
in fixing the time of his start from San Francisco. 
The girl — bless her!- 

But Gilpin was interrupting, querulously. 

44 My stomach’s beginning to feel a bit uneasy,” 
he said. 44 Let’s hurry this business through. Here 
is the contract in duplicate, ready for our signa¬ 
tures if it’s satisfactory to you.” 

66 You’re ready to sign — now?” Jack queried 
almost in a whisper. 



256 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


44 Certainly. That’s what I asked you here for, 
isn’t it? The contract stipulates a win in the 
Girard to validate it, but we can initial that out. 
This new Los Angeles road record you’ve set up 
more than equalizes that. And the press will have 
to give you credit for a victory even if you were 
robbed of it by that damned renegade driving the 
Perris!” Gilpin had half raised himself in the heat 
of his anger. He gulped suddenly and lay back. 
44 On second thought, you’d better look through the 
contract in your own stateroom and see me in the 
morning after I’ve got on my sea legs.” He rolled 
over with his face to the wall. 66 Please go — 
quickly — and ask the steward to bring me another 
lemon!” 

Lost in wonder and elation, the partners obeyed. 
By the time they had reached their stateroom, how¬ 
ever, Jack had recovered from his first amazement. 
He seized a piece of paper and penned a brief 
message to Rita, to be sent by wireless from the 
ship. 

“ How’s this for a proposal, Marcel?” he 
grinned. 

“ Gilpin signs contract thanks to you. Stop. On last 
lap now. Stop. Will you meet me at Los Angeles Har¬ 
bor pier where Prince Rupert docks to give me check¬ 
ered flag dash for life. Question. 

“ Jack.” 

44 Sacre damn!” Marcel cried admiringly, 44 zat 
ees ze grand in-spir-r-ation. Me, I also will send 
ze one to Madame McGuire!” 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


257 


On leaving the wireless room, the partners took 
a turn around the deck. Night had fallen. The 
Rupert was steaming along smoothly, well past 
the choppy “ Potato Patch ” where Gilpin had met 
his Waterloo. Over the stern showed the fading 
twinkle of lights at Land’s End. 

66 Great, isn’t it?” Jack sighed. 66 With all our 
windfall of luck, I haven’t any right to complain, 
but — Lord! wouldn’t it be perfect honeymooning 
on the Rupert now, heading south for those lawless 
little banana republics and the Spanish Main?” 

As he spoke, a tall, studious-looking man, wear¬ 
ing smoked glasses, detached himself from the 
rail close before them and hurried off toward a 
companionway. Reese gave the man only a casual 
glance, but Marcel stopped abruptly, his bright 
little eyes squinting rapidly. Then, as the retreat¬ 
ing figure paused uncertainly, glancing down a 
well lighted passageway, the diminutive French¬ 
man plunged in pursuit. With a cry of mingled 
rage and triumph, Marcel threw himself bodily 
onto the back of the hesitant one! 

In an indescribable tangle of arms and legs, the 
contestants rolled to the deck. But before Jack and 
a ship’s officer, coming from opposite directions, 
could reach the point of combat, a decision had 
been reached there. Sitting astride his victim was 
Marcel, the point of his short stiletto hovering 
closely enough above the other’s windpipe to dis¬ 
courage further resistance! And the scholarly 
one’s smoked spectacles were gone, along with a 


258 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


very cleverly chosen wig. In utter amazement, 
Reese found himself looking over Marcel’s shoul¬ 
der into the ferret face and fear-dilated eyes of 
Sam Massey! 

Jack quickly sketched the situation to the mate, 
who laid a competent-enough Scandinavian hand 
on Massey’s shoulder and bade the partners fol¬ 
low to the captain’s cabin. The captain listened 
with pursing lips to Jack’s charge. 

64 Do you admit these statements of Mr. Reese’s, 
sir?” he asked the cringing prisoner. 

44 1 admit nothing; I refuse to speak!” Massey 

snarled. 44 1-” His ferret eyes flickered 

toward Dejeans and remained fixed on him as if 
hypnotized. But when Jack and the Captain of the 
Prince Rupert followed the horrified glance, Mar¬ 
cel was assiduously engrossed in whittling the 
thinnest of shavings from a lead pencil with his 
razor-edged knife. With this finished, the little 
Frenchman handed the pencil to Massey with an 
elaborate bow. 

44 Ze confession, eh, Monsieur?” he suggested 
blandly. 44 Me, it ees zat you will please me by 
writing it, eh?” Close to each other now, there 
was something readable in Marcel’s beady jet eyes 
visible to Massey alone. And Massey, whatever 
he saw there, was sufficiently impressed to accept 
the pencil. For Dejeans’ earnestness of purpose, 
his absolute disregard of consequences, would have 
struck home to a far braver man than was Barton 
Kline’s craven accomplice. 



THE CHECKERED FLAG 259 

The confession was written! Once he fully 
realized that the jig was up, Massey took a sort 
of perverted pleasure in entangling his enforced 
master in the inextricable web of evidence his 
pencil wove across the pages of the confession. If 
Massey was never to attain the sanctuary of a 
Central American republic where an absence of 
extradition laws would have made him safe, at 
least he took every precaution to assure himself 
that Barton Kline would suffer with him. Perhaps 
pay the same penalty. For the confession con¬ 
tained certain gruesome evidence relative to Dolly 
Landon’s continued disappearance following the 
party at the Corbin home. 

Leaving Massey finally to the mercies of the 
ship’s authorities, the partners hastened to the 
wireless room. An answer to each of their mes¬ 
sages was awaiting them. Standing at the taffrail, 
with the Rupert's white-crested wake trailing far 
behind along the moonswept waters, Jack opened 
the Marconigram addressed to himself. A tender, 
boyish smile curved upward his firm lips as he 
read with eyes at last free of haunting shadows 
the six short words that answered the one question 
which was to him important above all others: 

“ I will dash. Exclamation point. 

“ Rita.” 

He turned to Dejeans, who was leaning discon¬ 
solately over the rail. 

“ What luck, Marcel?” he questioned, with just 


260 


THE CHECKERED FLAG 


a trace of anxiety, for he had long perceived a 
fact to which Marcel was apparently blinded — 
that Mother McGuire, for all her splendid qualities, 
was at least fifteen years the diminutive French¬ 
man’s senior. 66 Did she accept you?” 

A dejected shrug, more eloquent than words, 
came for an answer. 

66 She said you were too young for her, of 
course?” Jack said, commiseratingly, to spare his 
friend’s feelings. 

Marcel Dejeans turned a wry grin upward. 
Even his disappointment was not proof against his 
Gallic sense of humor. 

“ Sacre damn, no!” he smiled. “ Me, it ees zat 
Madame says I am for her too old!” 


The End 















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